


The Sun Always Rises

by irons_acre



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Eren's a Princess, Espionage, F/F, F/M, Levi's furious about the whole thing and so is Eren tbh, M/M, Modern Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Much death, Secret Illegal Government Programs, some love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 22:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irons_acre/pseuds/irons_acre
Summary: It would always be like this for her, he thought; alarms pulling her out of bed, plane taking off without her, Levi putting one foot in front of the other, day after day, leaning on luck and old habits to bring him home at last.Or: The one where Eren, Crown Princess of Maria, reluctantly (and reluctantly is the key word) marries King Erwin's second-in-command to build an alliance between Maria and Trost. See, the Sina Kingdom is rapidly expanding, and King Reiss' eyes are fixed on the lands to his West: Shiganshina, Maria, founded by the Warrior Queen almost 500 years past. There had not been an heir in the female line for almost three centuries, until Eren Jaeger. King Reiss decides he likes the old way better.





	1. Surprise! The World is Ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is a female take on Eren Jaeger. I've always been fascinated with what Eren would look like as a girl. The whole thing actually started around five or six years ago, after I read Echo by ADuelingHeart. After that, the image of a female Eren kind of stuck in my brain. I actually will confess to the fact that it never stopped there. I wondered, what if we had a female Tony Stark, a female Merlin, a female Loki...what if all the protagonists were women? How would that change the storyline, or the way we wrote their characters? 
> 
> I held off writing this fic for a long time because I realized that, when we write female characters, there are so many things that they do that we perceive as weak. A pretty classic example is this: Eren is an extremely emotional male character. He lacks the control and tact of Mikasa and Armin, who are also his age but infinitely more disciplined. When I was writing a female Eren, I found myself rebelling against that characterization. Passion in a woman is perceived so much differently by an audience and by a reader. But then I was like, why? Why can't Eren be angry and cry like a baby and be conflicted all the time? Why does she have to be mature and witty? So when I wrote this fic, I tried to stay as close to Eren's original character as possible. Obviously there are going to be some changes--- for one, this is a Royalty AU, Eren's actually 21 instead of 16, and, at the end of the day, there are differences in the way boys and girls grow up that inevitably cause them to see things differently and approach things with different tactics. I think trying to omit those differences would be an injustice to femEren as a character, but also as a concept. So I hope all of that comes through in the writing...and if there's anything you disagree with, please let me know! I might not end up changing it, but it would still be cool to hear what everyone thinks about the changes. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy the fic!

"Absolutely," Eren was saying, "Fucking not."

"The issue has already been settled," her father drawled, unconcerned with his daughter's anger. His greying brown hair was gelled back over his ears, long face appearing rather harsh in the awkward lighting of the room. As he turned to give her a stern look, the light glinted dangerously off his glasses. "I suggest you throw your tantrum in the car. I have important guests waiting for us at the Palace."

Eren opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ , but for once in her life she found that she was actually robbed of words. Dimly, she registered a bolt of fury washing over her as her father held her gaze for a few seconds, before nodding and turning away. _Satisfied. Dismissive_.

And all Eren could do was stare.

Oh, later she knew she would be angry. She could feel the hot flare of it in the base of her spine, crawling up from her toes, making her heart beat in double time. But bigger than that emotion, for once, was shock. She'd never known the emotion until that moment. Or --- she _had_ , but it always vanished within a few seconds.

Now, Eren counted as two minutes passed by while she sat, almost paralysed, in the plush seat of the fall palace conference room. Jean was getting worried, she could tell. Already his blank gaze was boring into the side of her face, though Eren knew him well enough to recognize the tell-tale sign of his clenched jaw. She played her father's words over in her head a couple more times, wondering if she'd somehow gotten something wrong, but no matter what angle she looked at it from, the same words rang like alarm bells in her head.

 _Married_.

_Engaged._

_Betrothed._

Grisha could use whichever synonym he fancied, but it all boiled down to one thing: Eren was finally being sold off. The prized pawn on the chess board, not because she was particularly useful, but because, like it or not, she held the most power in the palm of her hand. Her father had phrased it beautifully. _Eren, your heart is with the people of this nation. Eren, you know the Sina Kingdom has grown beyond our control. Eren you are aware that King Reiss wishes to expand influence and power into our region; Eren, don't you realize what this will mean for the people, for their children, their children's children; did you not agree to give your heart for this throne Eren this is the only way to give us a fighting chance and secure you_ _r_ _succession Eren the Trost Kingdom is our last ally in this fight and nothing short of a political marriage with secure them to us tightly enough ----_

And yet, she wondered, was it terrible that she recoiled from the idea with her entire being? Was it terrible that she felt bile and venom whispering at the base of her throat? Was it pathetic that she felt _hurt_ \---

 _Oh_ , she thought, all her anger and panic coming to a screeching halt. _Oh, there it is. That's it_.

She made herself swallow. Jean shifted in his seat, tense. It was rather cruel having him here when Grisha broke the news, given their history, but Eren couldn't say she was surprised.

When Eren spoke she was proud her voice at least came out even, even if her tone was flat.

"King Erwin is forty," Eren said. Her heart was beating so fast that her breaths were getting shallow. "Don't you think a nineteen year age gap is going to do more harm than good?"

Grisha paused in his inspection of the papers in front of him, looking up at his daughter curiously. "You will not be marrying King Erwin," he said. Eren felt some of her shock crack as she registered her father's toneless voice.

"You arranged to ship me away, and I'm _not_ marrying the King of the next land?" Eren asked in disbelief. "Who else could _possibly_ be worth bargaining me for?"

"King Erwin refuses to marry," Grisha sighed, leaning back in his chair. He met Eren's gaze head on, eyes roaming his daughter's hardened expression before continuing. "If not for that, I would not have taken no for an answer. As it happens, this marriage is too important for me to be picky. You are marrying the King's Second-in-Command. The Captain, Levi Ackerman, who ---"

"You want me to marry a _mass murderer_?!" Eren shouted, her shock finally shattering. She was on her feet before she could register the movement, completely missing Jean half-rising from his chair in anticipation. "What the fuck does he have on you for you to agree to something as stupid as that?!"

"Captain Ackerman is not a mass murderer," Grisha said, his voice rising slightly to parry his daughter's. "I admit he has an unfavourable background ---"

"Of _stealing and killing_ \---"

"But as the Second-in-Command, he has the second most power in the entire nation," Grisha went on, voice getting louder and louder. "Think, Eren! He controls the military in all but name. If there is to be a war with Sina, we will not need a figurehead to support us, but a nation's defense! Do you remember nothing from your lessons? Trost's entire Kingdom was founded on military action. They are unrivalled in this part of the hemisphere!"

"Oh isn't that fucking _nice_ ," Eren snarled, fury and hurt and fear --- _fear, she was fucking afraid --_ spinning through her head like a tornado. "When you receive my rotting corpse on your doorstep I really hope ---"

"Captain Levi will not touch you," Her father snapped, his voice turning deadly. "Nor will any other member of the King's Nation even _entertain_ the idea of harming you. We need Trost as added manpower in the event of Sina's expansion, but our Kingdom is more than capable of flattening Trost if any part of this marriage goes...awry."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" Eren asked. Belatedly she realized her hands were shaking. "That you'll invade a kingdom if they kill me? Has it crossed your tiny, medieval mind that I don't want to die in the first place?"

"And so you will not," Grisha said, once again returning to his regular tone. He straightened his tie as if his moment of expressiveness had displaced it. Eren wanted to shake him by the shoulders so badly her arm twitched, but Jean shifting in her peripheral had her gritting her teeth instead. "I am not sending you alone," Grisha continued. "Jean and Marco will continue their bodyguard duties within Trost. The matter has already been arranged with King Erwin. The two of them need only re-sign their contracts. Armin will be overseeing your transition and I'm sure Sasha can arrange for another PA to take her place. You will have every possible comfort, servants too, if you wish to take them. I can tell you are afraid," Grisha said, even as Eren bristled, "But only because your perception of Levi Ackerman is based on rumours and half-truths. If it helps, Mikasa has met him several times and maintained a normal level of hostility."

"Have you told her I was going to marry him?"

Grisha had the decency to pause. "No."

Eren let out a cold laugh, enjoying the way her father's expression closed off. "I think I'll wait to hear what she thinks once I've disclosed that vital detail," she said bitterly.

And yet, deep down, Eren knew it was hopeless. They had been waiting for an marriage announcement from the minute she turned eighteen, and now it was finally here. Three years late, but she was on some level glad she'd had time to run amok and anger the media and wander around the city before she was shut away. It wasn't even the marriage part of this whole catastrophe that angered Eren. She loved her kingdom and its people, their doting smiles and vocal protests, the relationship they had with the monarchy, the diversity of life thriving in the lower streets. She would do anything in her power to keep them safe and give them a good future.

No, what angered her was was the backhanded way that her father had done it. She wondered if Grisha even knew how much this place meant to Eren. If he had just _talked_ to her, told her the story, the strategic advantage, let her voice her concerns, negotiate, she would have surrendered every romantic notion that existed in her mind and agreed to marry whoever the fuck was waiting on the other end of the door. It was why she and Jean had broken up when they did. It was why she never placed her heart on her sleeve, though her face was always an open book. Eren knew she was always a figurine in the great game of Life her father played. It was just shitty to be _reminded_ of it so often.

"I want all the paperwork and negotiations sent to me by tomorrow morning," Eren said.

She felt, rather than saw, Jean's face go slack from somewhere on her right. Grisha's own head had snapped up, this time in honest surprise. The look switched to suspicion in an instant when he recognized the furious gleam in Eren's eyes.

"I know you have it," she said, taking a step forward so she could glare right at him. "You would never agree to anything as risky as this without some kind of binding document. I want to be debriefed on the specific aims of this marriage. I want a rundown of Trost's geography. I want a time period, I want a comprehensive report of Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, and Hanji Zoe _and if you don't give them to me I will get them from Armin and Mikasa_!" the last part came out in a yell as Grisha opened his mouth to interrupt her. Her father's features twisted in fury, but she knew she'd pinned him. He might be King, but Armin and Mikasa were her's. "I also," Eren said, her hands shaking again, "Refuse to sign anything unless notified at least 48 hours in advance starting _right now_. Where's the agreement?"

"There is no agreement yet," Grisha said through gritted teeth. His eyes slid to Jean and Eren sent her friend a silent thank you for his presence. It was the only reason Grisha remained so composed. "Negotiations are happening next Friday in the winter palace. I was planning ---"

"---On not having me attend so I don't fuck everything up," Eren finished. "You're out of luck. I love this Kingdom and these people, but I refuse to hand away my future without being present for its negotiation. Once the draft is made I want it sent to Sasha. Armin and Mikasa are also signing or there's no deal. The final copy is being sent to the Archive and I get to take one with me."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Eren's stomach fell out of its bottom.

"I...I _am_ being sent to Trost, aren't I?"

Grisha looked like he wanted to argue with every demand she'd just made, but restrained himself if favour of answering her current question. "Yes," he said tersely. "Although I intend for you to return after an agreed upon period of time, as the throne will fall to you inevitably."

Eren's shoulders visibly sagged as she took in that last sentence, but there was still something bothering her. "And if something....happens?"

"Nothing will happen to you at the hands of Trost," Grisha said exasperatedly. "Though if you're so worried, remember our laws. In the absence of the rightful King or Queen, Shiganshina will be ruled by a Steward. Mikasa has trained alongside you all these years. She is capable of handling the Kingdom in an emergency." While the words _better than you_ didn't pass through Grisha's lips, they rang in Eren's ears nonetheless.

 _But_ , Eren thought, _Mikasa lacks the passion necessary to devote herself to the people._ And, in any case, the throne would never fall to her permanently. Grisha's weakest trait was his reliance on tradition. There would only be one type of leader on that throne while he drew breath, and he would settle for nothing less than Jaeger blood.

"I'm guessing you're bringing them in ahead of Friday for the whole formalities thing?"

Grisha eyed her for a few seconds, contemplating, Eren thought, whether it was worth telling her now or waiting for her to somehow figure it out on her own.

Fortunately, he settled for the former.

"King Erwin, Captain Levi, and Commander Zoe are arriving on Tuesday evening in time for a ball on Thursday night," her father admitted, somewhat resigned. "You are ---"

"Definitely coming," Eren said flatly, in a tone that brokered no argument. She grabbed her coat from where it was flung over her chair and turned towards the door, not even bothering to wait for her father's reaction. "Make it a masquerade or something if you really don't want me to be recognized, but come hell or high water I am going to be at that dance."

"Eren!" Her father called sharply. "I am not finished --- "

But Eren kept moving and burst through the doors, two strategically heavy, gold-studded blocks fashioned in the French style, infamously difficult to breach. There were guards stationed down the hall, dressed in crisp black suits with wires in their ears. On any other day, Eren would have smiled at them, but today red was blurring her vision. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking. _Twenty feet_ , she counted, eyes fixed on the large exit in front of her; _nineteen, eighteen_ ; there would be a car for her out front, with Hannes, hopefully stationed at the wheel; her first destination would be home, her room, Mikasa and Armin would have to know; Sasha wasn't back until Monday morning at the earliest.

Something thick and heavy lodged itself in Eren's throat at the thought of leaving the three of them behind, and she halted in her steps.

Big mistake.

Eren had only stopped for a split second in another uncharacteristic explosion of shock, but it was apparently enough time for Jean to barrel right into her and send both of them toppling unceremoniously onto the floor.

"It's fine," Jean wheezed, probably at some guard that had begun running at them. Eren was a little too winded to do much except gasp desperately for air as she clutched her injured side, dazed from the impact her head made with the floor.

"When the fuck," she managed, gripping Jean's arm as he helped her up, "Did you get so --- fucking --- _heavy_ \---"

"Shut up," Jean grumbled, pushing hair out of her face to inspect her forehead. As Eren focused on his face, she saw that his eyebrows were pulled together in a rare expression of genuine concern. "It's your own goddamn fault for stopping so suddenly. What the fuck was that?"

Eren opened her mouth to form a smart retort, but found that she couldn't actually bring herself to joke about the situation or what she'd actually been thinking about. Instead she blurted, "Are you going to come with me?" Her voice was so quiet she barely heard it herself, but even so, she averted her eyes and cast them to the floor.

There was nothing for it. She was getting married. To a rumored psychopath. She was moving kingdoms. All in the name of saving the Marians.

 _It would be a real fucking joke_ , Eren thought, _if it turns out there was another way to secure Shiganshina without a political marriage_. Knowing her luck, she'd probably figure something out after she'd signed the damned agreement and would have to suffer anyway.

Jean's hand on her shoulder jarred her out of her thoughts.

"Of course I'm coming," Jean said, sounding offended. Eren's neck snapped up so fast she heard something crack. Jean's concerned expression had been replaced with his signature scowl. "What kind of bodyguard do you think I am? Do you think I went through two years of Defense Academy training just to drop the game after three years?"

"Well, I had to make sure," Eren said, her voice just managing to pass as teasing. The relief on her face was so strong that it looked like a living thing of its own, and she knew Jean wasn't fooled in the slightest. "Sometimes you can be a real pussy."

"See," Jean said, his scowl still in place, but his eyes softening, "That, right there? That's abuse of power. You _know_ I can't cuss you out in a public space..."

**_Six hours away..._ **

"You want me to do what," Levi deadpanned, his arms crossed over his chest, back unnaturally straight in the hard wooden chair, a deceptive mask of calm neutrality stretched across his pale face as he stared at Erwin across the small table. He could make it, if he wanted to. The space was just large enough for him to grab Erwin by the collar if he pounced, and then it would be no problem wrapping his hands around the older man's throat. 

"I understand that you might be upset," Erwin said, his tone unperturbed despite the dangerous tension in Levi's shoulders. "But Hanji and I believe that we can negotiate terms favourable enough for this marriage to work in your favour."

Levi didn't flinch at the word. Nor did he give away a single unconscious reaction.

Instead, he shifted his weight a little, leaning forward until he could comfortably place his palms on Erwin's immaculate table. He leaned forward, face impassive.

"No."

On his left, Hanji broke out into an expression of barely concealed glee.

"Ooooo Levi don't be like that it'll be good for you!" she trilled. On some level, Levi was upset with himself for letting the two shitstains in front of him get close enough for them to become completely unaffected by his glare, but currently the sentiment was being dwarfed by the mind-numbing irritation caused by Hanji's chaotic tone. "I mean even if you end up hating them what's the problem, all you have to do is carry them around to dinner parties and social events and you don't have to share any rooms! Plus, this is a _political_ marriage! Once the goals and negotiations are met and reasonably underway, just get divorced!"

At the word 'divorce', Levi found his anger bubbling into his throat.

"Why the fuck am _I_ being involved in this?" Levi demanded, his poker face finally dissolving into the furious glower he was best known for. "If King Jaeger wanted some kind of "way to uphold the deal", why didn't he send a fucking delegate to cement it? Who the fuck even does marriage alliances anymore? It's fucking medieval! There is no fucking way a signed document and a pair of rings exchanged between two _complete fucking strangers_ is going to guarantee the unity of two entire nations! And why the fuck aren't _you_ getting married?!" he spat, turning on Erwin. " _You're_ the fucking King!"

"I should have been the one," Erwin agreed, trying to sound sympathetic but only managing a wince. "But King Jaeger specifically asked for a military alliance ---"

"Erwin stop dancing around it!" Hanji interrupted. She whipped around to face Levi, her brown ponytail flying with the movement of her head. "King Jaeger asked _specifically_ for you! I think his words were something like 'who best to trust my daughter with than Humanity's Strongest' and Erwin _tried_ to steer it in the other direction, although I do admit it was a half-hearted attempt because he's way to old for her; I mean not that you're _not_ too old you're just _a lot less-"_

"Hold the fuck up," Levi snapped. "What do you mean, 'too old'? How old is the little shit?"

"Leeeevi," Hanji whined, sending him a disapproving frown. "You can't talk about your _betrothed_ like that!" Before Levi could fully administer his withering death glare, Hanji was barreling on, "She's twenty-one!"

"Erwin, you better have a good fucking explanation for ---"

"It's better than the nineteen years between her and myself," Erwin tried to reason, having the decency to look a little awkward. "Besides, her father was very clear. His daughter will eventually be the next Monarch and she needs to have military skills under her belt by then. Who better to teach her than you? If anything, think of her as a student."

"That's fucking disgusting," Levi deadpanned, actually wrinkling his nose. "Why the fuck would I think of my wife as a student? Teachers don't marry their --- oh Jesus _fuck_ ," Levi cursed, another thought occurring to him. Erwin and Hanji sent him curious looks. "She's not a romantic, is she? Does she expect anything from this? Does Jaeger realize he's marrying off his role heir to the most inhospitable, taciturn ---"

"Levi, don't be so hard on yourself," Hanji chided, her small mouth pulling down at the corners. "You're not very talkative or friendly, but you're no monster. So what if if you snap at her and have a hard time expressing yourself? After a while, your emotional constipation is quite endearing. I think she'll be good for you."

Levi bristled, but Erwin continued before he could say anything.

"I agree with Hanji," Erwin said. Levi was a little surprised to see him smiling, but the feeling rapidly faded into suspicion. "From what I've seen of her, Eren --- that's her name --- is a very open and straightforward person. There's a natural sort of charisma to her; she's a hit at social gatherings, and she's very perceptive and intelligent."

Levi could hardly believe his ears. "This was a _matchmaking_ endeavor?!"

"Obviously not at _first_ ," Hanji said, looking far too happy as Levi's fingers twitched on the table. "But once it was clear King Jaeger had his eye set on you, we thought, why not? I've only met the girl a handful of times, but she's kind and open-minded. Stubborn, too."

"Great. That means we're going to argue."

"Like I said, it'll be good for you. Plus, it's a small short-term price to pay for a long term benefit. We haven't formally signed to anything yet, but King Grisha said that Eren was quite active in welfare and social programs all over Maria."

"Hanji's right," Erwin intervened, nodding. His thick eyebrows remained on their respective parts of his face, instead of drawn together into one massive unibrow as they usually were, which meant he had this whole discussion planned to a T. "Trost is doing well for a Kingdom only twenty years old, but we still have a pretty significant poverty crisis following the civil war and the coups. On top of that, King Jaeger offered to help the business sector by having Eren set up agents from Shiganshina here temporarily, and there was also a lot of talk of giving us land for agriculture and expansion."

"More importantly," Hanji piped up, her voice a little more sober than it had been moments ago, "Sina is expanding too fast for us to stand a chance against them. If King Jaeger is worried, how do you think things are looking for us?"

"Your current lifestyle won't even have to change much," Erwin took over. The both of them were on a roll. Levi leaned away, resigned, but one finger brushed the gun strapped to his body to ground him. Hanji caught the movement and slapped Erwin on the arm hard enough for the sound to ring loudly in the silence.

" _Hanji_ \---"

"I can't believe you didn't disarm him!" Hanji scolded, not even bothering to spare the blond man a sympathetic look. Levi shot him a _you brought this upon yourself_ look that somehow managed to communicate that Erwin was very lucky it wasn't Levi who was sitting beside him.

Erwin let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the red spot where Hanji's hand had made contact, before squaring his shoulders.

"As I was saying, you won't have to change much," Erwin said, though Levi was pleased to see that his eyes flitted back and forth between Levi's face and the gun strapped to his thigh. "I mean, obviously it would be better for you to avoid affairs and flirtations, but if there is no connection between the two of you..." he trailed off suggestively, shrugging his broad shoulders. "You can do the bare minimum and pull this off. Separate bedrooms, separate schedules, separate living spaces. I doubt Eren will be willing to throw herself into your arms anyway, based on what I've seen of her, which means you just have to be...friendly. I know there's going to be an increased media presence in your life for a short while, which I know you hate, but as long as you two keep to yourselves and show up to events together, they won't have much to report. I'd be more concerned with the press in Shiganshina; their presence is a lot stronger there."

"Plus," Hanji picked up (Levi was starting to think this whole thing had been rehearsed ahead of time), "Is it so bad that you'll have to attend social nights with the same person again and again? That's really the only time you'll have to fake anything for appearances sake. And I guess whenever you visit the Marians --- they love Eren, by the way, so play nice whenever you're there --- but other than that?" Hanji shrugged, mirrorring Erwin's nonchalant manner. "It's all smooth sailing. _Plus_ Eren's still first in-line for the throne, which means ---"

"I am not moving anywhere," Levi said sharply. The fervour in his voice surprised him, but it made Hanji and Erwin flinch. They exchanged confused glances.

"I am not leaving Trost," Levi elaborated, watching their faces like a hawk. Relocation would result in an immediate no-dealer. Levi was an adaptive creature forged in the back-alleys and sewers of Stohess, but he refused to move away from the acceptance and routine he'd found in Trost's army. This was his home; anyone who tried to pry him away from it was shit out of luck.

Erwin and Hanji's eyes softened as he watched them.

"You won't be moving," Erwin said. His voice was almost soothing. "We've arranged for her to come here with her closest members of staff. After an agreed upon period of time, she'll return to Shiganshina to finish cementing negotiations, and I'm sure after that her father will step down and give her the Throne. You just have to wait until she's done carrying out Shiganshina's end of the bargain before dissolving the marriage, if you really can't stand it."

Levi narrowed his eyes. Something in Erwin's tone suggested that divorce _wouldn't_ be happening.

"It's a really good bargain," said Hanji. Her eyes were glittering, having taken on a dreamy and far-away look. She wasn't even staring at Levi anymore, and he was willing to guess she wasn't talking about the nation when she mentioned 'bargain'. "I mean, you get to be married to this gorgeous woman --- really, she's lovely; looks exactly like her mother and Queen Carla was a _knockout_ in the 90s --- who is also going to help us update what frankly is a very rough and imperfect social program and business sector, _plus_ all you have to do is show her how the military works! And she can't even betray the information because of the alliance! Honestly, Levi, you barely have to pull any weight. Think of this as an unconventional mentorship."

"The biggest issue you may face is having her steal your title as "Most Beloved" among the people," Erwin joked.

Levi met his eyes once more from across the table, his nails letting up a little from where they'd been digging into his skin. From a political and strategic perspective, Levi knew the two idiots were right. It was a small price to pay for securing Trost and helping it expand. And if Levi was being honest with himself, it wasn't like he had any marriage plans in mind for the foreseeable future, or even someone he was interested in, for that matter. If the snotty Princess was going to help get the people back on their feet, and all he had to do was show her the military ropes, what was the big deal? Erwin had even mentioned she wasn't sticking around forever. In a few years, a decade at the most, Levi would be single again, Princess Eren would be off on her merry way with a crown on her head, and both sides would be happy.

Of course, there was always the danger of attachment. He had no idea what kind of person the brat was, but Levi was a simple man. He would tell her right away that she could take whatever romantic notions she'd harboured all her life and shove them up her pampered ass.

The thought calmed him down a little. If she was royalty, she'd undoubtedly be used to being waited on hand and foot her whole life. There was a pretty good chance she'd never join him for all the drills and exercises he ran throughout the day, which meant Levi only had to spare her a couple hours each day to answer whatever questions she had. He could assign his personal squad members to deal with her when they inevitably fought; Petra had a natural maternal streak she frequently whipped out on Erd and Gunther, and would probably be better equipped to handle a kid Eren's age than Levi.

"One day I'm going to make you choke on those caterpillar monstrosities you pass off as eyebrows," Levi sighed, but there was no bite to his tone. He wanted to find Auro and have a good fight. It was a complete abuse of his hero-worship of Levi, but if Levi was being sacrificed in this whole "for-the-greater-good" scheme, he didn't see why he couldn't take someone down with him.

"YES!" Hanji screeched, making Erwin start in his seat and Levi's ears ring. Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, already standing up. He'd suspected for a while now that Hanji was rapidly reaching the limits of her calm (or calm-er) business exterior, and he was not in the mood to watch or hear her batshit side come to life. "LEVI'S GETTING MARRIED! _Ooh Erwin_ we have to prepare Eren's room! The paperwork! The --- _ERWIN WE HAVE TO TELL THE TRAINING BASE!_ " This last part was vocalized at eardrum-shattering levels. Levi ground his teeth together, keeping his eye fixed on the office door, mentally noting the chuckle Erwin had the audacity to release in response. _That shit is getting coal in his stocking this year._

"Let's start with the trainees," Hanji said breathlessly. "Ohhhh it's about time they had a good piece of gossip to entertain them..."


	2. Scheming

_It should be a fact universally noted that Monday is the worst day of the week. It was made by the Devil,_ for _the Devil, because he was a selfish prick that reserved the start of the new week for the Grand Opening of his stupid devilish tricks._

"Eren," Armin sighed, though his tone was brimming with fondness. "You're talking out loud again."

The girl in question lifted her glower from the documents in front of her to her friend's face, but it only lasted a minute before her blush ruined it.

"At least it'll be an interesting marriage," Sasha supplied less-than-helpfully from across the room. She was dressed primly in white slacks and a green shirt with pretty patterns criss-crossing over one another, which is how everyone knew the situation was dire. "Maybe he'll think your weird spaced-out muttering is endearing or something."

"Or maybe he'll get annoyed and throttle Eren in her sleep," Jean said cheerfully, stretching in his seat on Eren's right.

Armin sent him a disapproving frown, his eyes skimming Eren's face. But all she did was grimace.

"It's a little too soon to joke about that," she mumbled, eyeing the contract draft in front of her. Armin had just informed her that Ackerman, Smith, and Zoe had received the same document a few hours ago. It included all the tentative promises her father had discussed without her knowledge, as well as Eren's own stipulations about the whole affair. According to Armin, everyone would have until Friday to review the document and then meet for final negotiations. It was the same day Eren and Ackerman would sign the marriage papers and exchange rings in front of the Archbishop.

It was pretty sneaky, Eren thought. Crunching everything so close together meant everyone was anxious for the signing and the negotiation to go smoothly. Piss off one party, and the deal was off.

Very sneaky indeed.

 _I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though_ , she thought. _Considering it was Armin's idea_.

Eren had had her doubts in the beginning, wondering about the risk to Maria. They would _also_ have to play their part in ensuring they didn't piss off the other Kingdom. Eren had met King Erwin a couple times; the man was a real smooth-talker. Apparently Armin and her father were pretty confident that Trost was a little more desperate than Maria was, however, and knowing Armin, Eren decided to trust his judgement.

It didn't mean she felt a whole lot better about this whole thing.

When the silence had stretched on longer than she liked, Eren asked, "Do you have the intel report?"

Armin pulled out a chair and took his own seat at the table. "Mikasa is on her way with it," he said gently.

They were all gathered in Eren's room. Being part of the Royal Wing, the walls were soundproof, security was tight, it was bug-free, and Eren had a little screen that showed her all the cameras operating within the vicinity, so they always knew when they were about to be interrupted. The screen and camera system especially were ideal for conducting top-secret conspiracy meetings (but less welcomed when she had wanted to sneak out in her teenage years).

"Mind you," Armin adeed, "We couldn't find a lot on Ackerman specifically. Obviously there was stuff on his connection to the Underground, and he left a paper trail when he was recruited by the army, but other than that, not much."

Jean glanced up from his examination of his nails. "Not even an permanent address?"

Armin shook his head. "I'm pretty sure he was homeless. There was an address he used for his enlistment, but he was only there for 6 months, enough to fulfill the requirement for the military enlistment form. When I searched it up it was a....brothel."

Eren almost laughed at the pink dots that appeared on his cheeks at the word, but her confusion prevented her from teasing. "You're saying Ackerman lived in the red-light district when he enlisted? At 16?"

"It's weird, I know. But if he was homeless..."

Jean let out a low whistle. "Damn, Your Highness. You're about to marry an ex-prostitute."

"He wasn't a prostitute," Armin shut him down immediately, though he looked thoughtful. "When I made contact with the owner, they said they'd never employed anyone by the name of Ackerman."

"Okay, so he used a fake name," Jean said, shrugging.

But Armin shook his head again. "No. I don't know how he knows, but King Grisha ensured Ackerman's past was clean of that sort of thing. We can't have it going around that Maria's Princess is marrying an ex prostitute."

"Yeah, but it's totally acceptable for her to marry a mass murderer," Eren said sarcastically.

"He's not a _mass_ murderer," Armin said, fixing Eren with a soft look. His ridiculous knockoff version of a bowl cut, combined with his big blue eyes, made the look all the more poignant, and Eren felt her shoulders relax on their own accord. Armin was literally the embodiment of ease when he wanted to be. "Sure, he's done a lot of dirty work, but he's taken out gangs, drug cartels, human traffickers —-"

"Politicians, ambassadors, businessmen," Eren listed, scowling.

Armin's eyes turned pleading. "I'm not trying to justify what he's done," he insisted. "Come on, Eren. You _know_ how well I judge people. Something about Ackerman's profile tells me there's another side to this story."

Eren clucked her tongue, doubtful, but held Armin's earnest gaze. Armin was surprisingly good at reading people, almost as good as he was at assessing situations. There was probably a good reason why he thought Ackerman wasn't as bad as the word on the street made him out to be, and if Eren was being honest, she didn't want to marry a murderer. If there was at least something to back up his actions, she'd feel a lot better.

Although she was still doubtful, she gave Armin a small nod, communicating that they'd talk about it later.

"Well!" Sasha piped up, clapping her hands together and making Eren start. There was a little gleam in her eye that made Eren instantly wary. "No matter what, I think we can agree on one thing when it comes to Ackerman, ex prostitute or not." She paused for dramatic effect, the gleam in her eye intensifying.

"The sex is gonna be amazing."

Eren groaned and turned beet red as Armin let out a small splutter, eying Sasha with a horrified expression.

"Why would you bring that up?!" He asked weakly. Sasha shrugged.

"What? Even if he's not an ex prostie, he's a murderer. I'd bet good money that he's really kinky."

"Oh my God," Eren said, feeling a little ill. For some reason, it had totally slipped her mind. Granted, this wasn't like, the 17 century, where they did whole "bloodstained sheets" ceremony, and marriage wasn't "valid only if consummated" or whatever, but...

Jean suddenly let out a grunt and poked her in the side. "Stop looking so queasy. If the fucker tries anything, Marco and I are gonna shove sticks up his ass until he tastes blood."

"Thanks for the amazing mental image," Eren said drily, but she gave him a small smile. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't glad Marco and Jean were getting roped into this mess with her.

Jean patted her hand affectionately, giving her an easy grin that also managed to look sharp and wicked at the same time.

Eren liked this new dynamic between them, where they still argued and grated on each other's nerves, but did so as old friends. It was weird to think that only two years prior, she and Jean had been rolling in each other's sheets between her Royal engagements and transforming his guard duties into impromptu dates. It had been exhilarating and had felt so _real_ , but at the end of the day, Eren was not free to make her own decisions about love. She'd long since known that her marriage would be to the Kingdom and for the Kingdom. Jean said he hadn't cared, and, for his part, he really hadn't. But the tension, the constant secrecy and hiding, the threat to Jean's job, all of it had worn them down in the end. Not to mention that Eren always worried about leaving him behind when she inevitably _did_ get married.

At first it had been hard to let go of the pain. She had known Jean her whole life, with his parents being a very influential couple in the Marian upcountry. When he had attended boarding school with her, they'd fallen in naturally, screaming and fist-fighting and competing for everything. She couldn't pinpoint when it had changed. One day she and Jean just fell into a different dynamic. Shouting matches went on, but the space between them shrank. Angry eyes fell to lips. Shoving hands lingered too long. And somewhere along the way, one argument had turned into a kiss, an offending hand turned affectionate, one thing led to another, and they kept waking up in the other's bed.

After she and Jean had unravelled, things between them became difficult. Not bitter, but...even if Jean was her best friend, how was she supposed to go on with a friend that had seen her naked? In more that just the physical way? How did you let something like that go?

After all those years, Eren discovered that you didn't. Some part of her heart would always love Jean and everything they'd shared, but the part of her that loved Maria and Shiganshina were stronger in the end. Jean had eventually found his peace with that, too. He took a break from the Kingdom. It was how Eren had ended up with Marco as part of her staff; he replaced Jean for six months while he travelled the hemisphere, learning defence and gathering intelligence from every crevice he could squeeze himself into. When he'd returned, Eren was afraid he wouldn't come back, but when she'd woken up the next day and opened her door she'd found him seated with Marco in the hallway, laughing at a joke he'd cracked and running a hand through his ridiculous two-toned hair.

And they'd been inseparable ever since. 

"Well, enough about Ackerman," Armin said, pulling Eren out of her wistful thoughts. "Eren, you know basically everything about Smith and Zoe from your lessons, so there's no point talking about that. Jean, Marco and Sasha are also getting the same intel report. Are we good?"

Three heads nodded in his direction. With a satisfied nod of his own, Armin dove into his huge book bag and pulled out a thin binder. "Great. While Mikasa's on her way, let's talk about this party on Wednesday."

"It's a _ball_ ," Sasha said crossly. "Why do you always take the fun out of everything?"

"Technically, it's an engagement party," Eren murmured, only to have a fierce glare shot her way. 

"Not you too!"

"Would _you_ want to hype up a party that was planned for an engagement you had no idea about?" Eren countered. "I didn't even know there was going to be an engagement party until I made my father angry enough to admit it. Who doesn't get invited to their own engagement party?"

"He didn't invite you because he knew you'd find a way to make it fall apart."

Eren let out an annoyed huff. "I was going to do that anyway," she pointed out. "Inviting me would have at least made me less vengeful."

"He _is_ trying to appease you," Armin piped up. Eren looked over to see that he'd opened the binder. "He's decided to go with the masquerade plan. Mikasa might have mentioned something about you planning to otherwise disguise yourself as one of the guards."

Eren beamed, mentally noting to thank her sister later. One great thing about their family was that Grisha liked to keep his kids close and involved (on most things). Owing to Mikasa's reputation as a child genius in everything (except perhaps hand-to-hand combat, though Eren admitted that she and her sister were practically tied), she'd been made Assistant Defence Minister. Her levelled rationale, poker-face personality, and sharp eyes made her the perfect candidate for offence. A huge upside to this was that Mika was pretty close with Grisha, who'd named her his Ward as soon as Mikasa had lost her family as a kid. And, despite knowing Mikasa mostly batted for Eren's team, he somehow still expected her to keep him up-to-date on her most recent plotting. (Sometimes Mikasa actually did, if she thought Eren was in real danger and had no other way of stopping her, something that had caused massive fights in their youth).

These days though, Mikasa didn't mind leading Grisha astray every now and then for Eren's benefit. She'd probably told her father about this plan out of real anger and spite; it was well known that Eren and Mikasa were sisters in all but blood. They did everything and went everywhere together.

Except this time.

"So what's the game plan?" Eren asked, putting a stopper on her thoughts. She had yet to cry about the whole affair and she didn't quite feel like starting a meltdown in front of all her friends. "Give me the basics. When does it start? Who's coming? What's the schedule?"

Armin sat straighter in his chair, and Eren unconsciously did the same. The time for jokes had passed. This was a serious matter.

"Doors open at 7pm in the Winter Palace amphitheatre. This is a celebration-only affair, no dinner. Guests pile in while a performance goes on, probably a jazz singer or an orchestra playing, the program is a little vague right now, but the idea of the evening is to start by showcasing Marian talent. Romana Una D'elia is singing her opera, then the flamethrowers are going a performance, and finally there's a Marian dance happening, and that's all supposed to end by 8."

Eren groaned. "Can we please skip that? I won't even get to say anything to anybody during the performances." And, as she was currently giving her father the silent treatment, sitting beside him would be awkward.

"But don't you want to see their reactions to the Marian people?" Armin asked.

"What's there to see? They're going to be bored and jet lagged. If anything interesting happens I'm sure the rumour mill is going to pick it up."

Armin frowned at that, but after a second shrugged and went on. "Well, in that case, you just have to show up at the winter palace ballroom at 8:00 or so. The party is scheduled to last until midnight. Aside from the obvious few, the Kirstcheins, Romneys, a few ambassadors, including our military personnel, and some politicians are going to be there. Oh, and Hannes. Mikasa and I aren't attending the performances of you're not going."

Eren and Jean gave hums of approval, noting the guard schedule.

"Do you want me or Marco on the floor?" Jean asked her.

"Let Marco take duty," Eren said immediately. "You should spend some time with your parents."

"How about Marco and I split time?" Jean suggested. "The guy doesn't really get out much. He can start duty and I'll end it."

Eren voiced her agreement. Before anyone could get another word in, however, Sasha cleared her throat and opened up a binder of her own.

"Now that we've got all the boring stuff out of the way," she said, pulling out what Eren identified as fabric samples, "Can we _please_ talk about what everyone's wearing?"

Jean glanced quickly at his watch and Armin's look of concentration rapidly switched into a polite smile. He kept quiet, but Jean had no such reservations.

"Wow!" He said, fake surprise plastered all over his tan face, "Look at that, Marco's supposed to take over from here. Sorry, Sash."

But Sasha wasn't having any of it. "You can't go!" She protested. "You're the one with the least fashion sense out of all of us!"

Jean spluttered and opened his mouth to object, but Sasha had already stood and diverted her attention from him.

"You guys think this is all stupid stuff, but think about it realistically for a second! Eren isn't supposed to be recognized the whole evening by anybody. How are we supposed to pull that off when Jean and Marco are going to be on duty? Mikasa and Armin are _also_ going to be there and staying close to her _and_ Ackerman's entourage. Plus the whole room is going to be packed with Marian High Society. It's practically their job to identify Eren so they can throw themselves at her feet. The whole night is a disaster waiting to happen, and the masquerade aspect of the ball is all we have to work with."

"Sasha has a point," Armin admitted, looking a little disgruntled. "It'd be a lot easier if you didn't want to stay undercover, Eren."

"No way! I don't want to deal with King Erwin's hypnotic niceties. And I don't want to meet Ackerman as myself the first time. He's just going to spew bullshit and judge me."

"See, so our costumes have to be perfect," Sasha insisted. "I know it's unrealistic to think that _none_ of us will be recognized, but the longer it takes them to figure out we're circling Eren, the smoother this night is going to go."

"Okay, I'm also understanding your point," Jean said, but he didn't sound too happy about it. "I refuse to wear a fucking bird mask, though, okay?"

"Your face is too long for that," Sasha said dismissively, ignoring Jean's offended look and instead narrowing her eyes at him. "If you piss me off, I'll put you in a horse mask. _Watch_ me."

Eren bit her lip to fight her grin. If there was one thing she and Sasha were always able to agree on, it was that making fun of Jean Kirstein was the greatest pastime ever created. At first, it had made Jean and Sasha butt heads every so often, but now they were practically best friends, much to Eren's glee.

Sasha herself was a true gem. Eren had discovered her almost three years ago as she was finishing high school and preparing to take on a full-time position in the Royal engagement schedule. She'd been wandering around the rural towns near the Summer Palace trying to find a local designer to commission her ceremonial dress, and had been caught by the haphazard charm of a store called _Braus Emporium_. Eren just _had_ to go inside; who actually used the word "Emporium" nowadays? Besides, the display had been ridiculous. There were beach chairs outside the front entrance (this alone was bewildering; Dauper was nowhere close to the sea or any beach whatsoever) covered in magnets of cities all over Maria, which had been taped or glued onto the chairs' smooth surface. The windows had lace curtaining and Hawaiian garland necklaces hanging off of pegs, and the mannequins in the shop window were nude except for primitive-looking leopard print underclothes that covered their genitals. Whoever ran the store had cut out small circles of the ugly fabric (which upon closer inspection Eren had discovered was actually imitation fur) and slapped them over the female mannequins' nipples.

The inner setup had been another story altogether. The shelves were stacked with beautiful silks and shimmering fabrics, all neatly folded away by colour, so the whole store shimmered with vibrancy. The lace curtains downplayed the intensity of the shelves and offered some relief to the eyes, and the dark wood of the floor acted as a neutral backdrop to the dizzying array of material that encompassed it. Sasha had emerged from the backroom when the bell had announced Eren's arrival, an annoyed scowl on her face. Maybe she didn't get out much, maybe she didn't care, or maybe she was too tired to notice, but Sasha didn't recognize Eren as Maria's princess. Instead of the usual niceties Eren got, Sasha put her hands on her hips and told her flat-out that she would not be making anyone anything unless Eren could pay her six month's rent for the store, which Sasha matter-of-factly informed her was "four-thousand, two-hundred pennigs and eighty-seven pencings."

Dauper was a small town. Most of its residents were on the lower end of the SES. Eren would know because she had been planning to launch a bunch of social programs in the area.

There was no way the rent of Sasha's little store was anything over three hundred pennigs a month, and the triumphant look in Sasha's eyes told Eren that she knew it.

Eren wrote the check.

"Who the hell are you?" Sasha had demanded. Even in the small space she'd glowed, her skin tan like Eren's, brown eyes suspicious, reddish hair catching in the sunlight. She'd been wearing a loose cotton dress with spaghetti straps --- completely normal, except that it was a horrible shade of mustard yellow and she'd paired it with tiger-print fur shoes and neon pink nail polish. She'd been perfect.

So Eren had smiled and said she was simply someone looking for something fresh in her wardrobe. The following month saw her, undercover, in Sasha's shop almost every day, chatting with the few customers that bothered to indulge in the lovely fabrics, being blinded by Sasha's eccentric fashion, and gathering whatever information she could about the town. She'd learned that Dauper had been a low-income area to begin with, but that the recent influx of refugees from the European countries had been dragging them into the ground. She'd learned that Sasha's family, or what was left of it, were cloth traders and had been since Maria the Warrior Queen united the wayward lands around Shiganshina almost 500 years ago. Not that Sasha was too happy about the fact. She spent most days talking about packing her things and seeing the world for herself and finding a way to give the store over to one of her idiot cousins in the south.

A year later, Eren had her singing a contract and becoming the first untrained member of the Royal Staff since the Kingdom's founding. Sasha was an incredible PA. She had the brains and willpower to stay organized and professional, but enough snark to elbow her way through crowds and grapple with the Marian High Society that watched Eren like hawks.

It didn't hurt that she made the best pie Eren had ever tasted, either. Or that she snuck food to social events. Or that she made coffee so good it made even Mikasa less irritable.

Or that she usually went along with Eren's scheming.

"Everyone buckle up," Sasha was saying. As she pulled her hair back, Eren caught sight of the silver bracelet Mikasa had gifted her last Christmas. The only betrayal of Sasha's nerves Eren could spot in the first few months of her joining the staff was that her wardrobe had undergone a massive change. It was like watching a What-Not-to-Wear transformation. Paisley print and blinding color combinations had rapidly turned into monochrome outfits and braided hair. It was only after a certain period of time that the original Sasha Braus had re-emerged, though muted; it was strange scarves worn in the winter, studded boots in the fall, neon pantsuits, floral dresses that should have looked awful but somehow worked...

...and then jewelry, which Sasha tended not to wear. It was easy, now, to judge how worried Sasha was about something based on what she wore. The crisp outfit and the matching bracelet, combined with her high ponytail and four-inch-heels, communicated that Sasha was dead serious about whatever she was about to say next and it was not the time to argue with her.

"I made four of the masks by hand. You can never trust Shiganshina tailors; they're all about fashion without practicality," she sniffed. "Mikasa and Armin are going to be wearing the Marian colours, red and white. It'll derail the foreign entourage. They'll probably be expecting the Royal Family to wear the Official colors anyway, which means we're dressing Eren in anything that's not red. As for the masks, I bought Mikasa a swan, and Armin has a half-cover mask. Armin, since you two do pretty well with clothing, I'm not bothering to check up on you. You're going to be instantly recognizable, anyway, because no one has that haircut anymore, and I think it's a good idea to have Mikasa alternate between the King's side and Ackerman's table, so we're not going to worry about keeping her hidden."

Armin nodded politely, no longer fazed by Sasha's jabs. He seemed to agree about using Mikasa as a diversion, too, though Eren was a little put-out by it. Call it petty girlish rivalry, but Mikasa was a total knockout. Tall, muscular, and dark-haired, she was the female embodiment of the "tall, dark, and handsome" trope, with an edge of danger that instantly captured the whole room's attention. Not that Eren wasn't pretty herself; it was just a different kind of beauty. Her features were softer, more youthful, and her weapon was charm instead of intimidation. It was so stereotypically feminine that Eren couldn't help envy her sister from time to time, although it never got in the way of their relationship.

"Okay, so, that leaves Jean, Marco, Eren, and myself," Sasha listed. From the binder flaps, she pulled out a few photographs and passed them around the table. "For Marco and Jean, I went pretty classic. Marco's going in an all-white suit --- well, cream, really --- instead of the usual guardsman uniform for events, and his mask is covering practically his whole face. As good-looking as he is, his freckles are sort of a giveaway. I know he's supposed to tag Eren, but he and I are going as a couple. That way he won't have to hang around awkwardly while he trails after you."

Eren let out a hum of agreement. It was smart. Sasha would also be able to blend into the crowd, and everyone knew Marco was gay, so having Sasha on his arm would throw them off.

"Jean," Sasha continued, "Since you're mingling with your parents half the night, you're in a black tux. _No_ flowers," she added severely. "It's too much of a nod to the servicemen uniforms, you've seen them, they've got the Marian roses on the coat pockets. You're in the black mask. See how it covers the whole right side of your face and the middle part of the left? It's totally going to dull out your weird two-toned hair when it's combined with the black tux and the black undershirt."

Jean rolled his eyes, apparently deciding to let the comment on his hair slide.

"Eren," Sasha said finally, turning her whole body to face her. Everyone at the table stood up a little straighter in anticipation. Sasha's reluctant expertise in clothing design was the most well-known fact in the city, after she'd designed Eren's scandalous ceremonial dress three years ago. It had been black and fitted, with long sleeves and a skirt that fell to her ankles. Seemingly innocent, but under the light, the fabric became sheer enough for hints of tanned skin to tease the eye. Combined with the plunging back, it had given Eren's father enough cause to yell at her for over an hour after the ceremony.

But the press? They had loved it. Eren had been only eighteen, they reasoned, and the dress was a perfect marriage between late teenager and early adult. The skin hinted at her youthfulness, but the dress' fit, its length, and its simplicity made it score a perfect 10/10 in the fashion world. Sasha's fame hit astronomical levels overnight, much to her shock, and Eren became the people's new favourite royal.

So, yeah. Sasha was pretty fucking powerful.

And right now, there was a devilish gleam in her eye that made Eren break out into a slow grin.

.................................

Across the sea, Levi, Erwin, and Hanji were once again seated in Erwin's pristine office. It was sunny outside, a little hot, but in the shade there was a cool breeze that soothed the exposed necks and arms of the trainees practising outside.

It was all a big fucking joke, Levi decided. How was he supposed to enjoy the day when his whole life was going to shit?

Hanji grinned from beside Erwin. "Maybe we should have a Bachelor party," she said slyly. "I'm sure Auro will be happy to organize the whole affair."

Levi's low snarl was the only response she got. His hands ached for a weapon. Erwin had confiscated everything yesterday, after Levi had yelled at Petra about something in the kitchen. He couldn't even remember what it was, fuck.

Whatever calm and acceptance Levi had come to a few days ago had quickly vanished once the news had spread throughout the training base, and later, the Kingdom. It wasn't like they could marry in a foreign princess without alerting the public, after all. The first few news articles had made his eyebrows hike up in irritation, but the ones that had surfaced on Sunday had finally put him on edge. With stupid titles like 'The Captain's Bride' and ones that sounded like they belonged on the front cover of some old lady's erotica collection, Levi found his old tolerance for the world's fuckery rapidly reaching its limit.

Anyway, if there was one person who was completely undeserving of his wrath, it was Petra. Everyone knew that she had feelings for Levi. Even the _trainees_ knew it, and their heads were so full of shit that Levi personally thought it was a wonder they'd managed to make it to nineteen at all.

Petra hadn't even given him the cold shoulder after all the shouting. Her eyes had gone all soft instead and she'd bumped him gently on the way out, which is how Levi knew he was getting bad.

"All in all, I think the terms are very agreeable," Erwin piped up, setting his document down. He didn't even bother to comment on the tension radiating off of Levi, though he kept his voice quieter than usual. Levi felt an odd surge of satisfaction.

Hanji gave Levi an appraising look from beside the blonde shitstain Levi had made the error of befriending. "You haven't even read it, have you?"

"No," he admitted readily, not bothering to snap at Erwin's frown. "I'm not in the fucking mood. I assume you two fuckers will tell me if there's anything wrong with it."

"Actually, there's something worth discussing in here," Hanji said. "It's about your titles. Since Eren is next in line, she won't give up her name or current status as Crown Princess, which leaves you to decide whether you're taking or leaving a Royal title of your own."

Levi narrowed his eyes. "Isn't taking it a dumbass move? I run part of our military."

"Normally, in these situations, you would revoke your current name and adopt her's," Erwin murmured, looking thoughtful. "But that fact that King Grisha is letting you choose suggests it won't matter much. Personally, I think you're right. Your role in the military means you can't revoke your citizenship and connection to Trost. We could negotiate for you to keep your name and maybe gain the title of Duke instead of Prince. The Swedes did something similar when their daughter married a businessman."

"As long as it doesn't compromise the Base or the Squad, do whatever," Levi muttered. "Does the stupid document have some sort of time frame for this bullshit marriage, or am I expected to suffer indefinitely?"

Erwin and Hanji exchanged veiled glances. Levi felt his stomach tighten and then flood with a lethal sort of irritation that usually promised violent anger.

"Don't get your panties in a twist yet," Hanji said hastily, pushing her glasses up her nose. "The King didn't give a timeframe. I mean, he vaguely mentioned that he was looking at a 10 year program, but in his writing he makes it clear he doesn't see a divorce happening in the future. These are things we can negotiate!"

"Eight years," Levi grit out. "Make it work."

Hanji opened her mouth, probably to object, but Erwin beat her to it. "If that's what you want, I'll try my best to make it work," he said. "But we are not mentioning divorce in front of the King." Then, visibly grappling for something to break the tension, he added, "Have you seen today's paper?"

"Fuck you," Levi snarled, but he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. As a matter of fact, he _had_ seen the paper that day. Specifically, the front page shot of a blown-up picture of Princess Eren herself, in profile, her gloved hand held up in a wave to the mass of people probably assembled in front of her. Levi had seen the paper and put it down to go and make coffee. He'd walked back to it. Put it down. Gone away. Come back.

He was self-aware enough to identify the image as the cause of his terrible mood.

Of all the things she had to be, of all the ways she had to look, she had to look like _that_. He'd spent a good five minutes eyeing the image, trying to find a crack in the smile, an unflattering mole, some kind of fakeness in the one eye he could barely see, and had come up short. To his utter dismay, the only word he could think to describe her as was _beautiful_.

It didn't exactly bode well with his "ignore her forever" plan.

Again, Levi was self aware enough to realize this was childish. Beauty didn't indicate personality; she could still be an ogre underneath that smile, and even if she wasn't, why did he feel like a pretty face and a genuine heart was going to make it difficult to keep her at bay? He was going to marry a pretty woman. Who was allegedly loved by her whole Kingdom.

What was the problem?

Ten minutes later, Hanji was cornering him in the hallway and asking him the same question.

"Levi, my job is to know things," she whined, looking him up and down like he was one of her experiments. Which he was. They all were.

This base was Hanji's world, and they were just living in it.

Levi tried to push past her. "Get out of my way," he grumbled, but Hanji cast a furtive look around the hallway, grabbed his arm, and shoved him into an empty room.

Levi hissed at the unwanted contact, immediately wrenching his arm from her grip and glowering. He liked Hanji, he really did. But even _she_ had a certain line that she wasn't supposed to cross with him.

Hanji just smiled at him, like he wasn't feeling murderous or radiating violence.

"Okay, talk," she said softly, grabbing a chair and sitting down. Levi found that they were in an unused classroom. "Don't make me get all research-y on you," she warned.

Levi contemplated his options. On one hand, Hanji was a scarily accurate in her observations of people and would probably end up revealing more about him than Levi wanted to know. On the other hand, she sometimes got so carried away that it was perfectly acceptable to walk out on her while she was in the middle of a sentence. Not that Levi tended to wait until it was acceptable.

"Come on, Levi," she coaxed. "I can tell from your pinched expression that this is going to bother you for a long time. If you talk about it now I promise I won't bother you for the next week, unless you come to me first."

Now _that_ was a bargain Levi was willing to make. He grabbed a chair of his own and settled down in front of Hanji, feeling every guard that he possessed flying up. _It could be worse,_ he told himself. At least he wasn't drunk. He got very confessional when he was drunk. Stupidly honest. It was only with Hanji and Erwin that that side of him emerged, but still, Levi liked to avoid it if and when he could.

"So what is it?" Hanji asked. She and Levi both occupied too much of the room with their presence. It didn't help that Hanji's gaze was mostly concerned. Annoyance, curiosity, even her research-gaze, Levi could handle. But the outright worry on her face, the creased brow, and the way she had her fingers laced tightly together as if _reminding_ herself to reign it in, had all the bullshit on his tongue dying.

"Its the shit," he said eloquently.

Hanji frowned. "You mean Eren?"

"Yes, I mean Eren!" Levi bit, unable to help the way his voice rose. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath. He had no idea how to put the stupid thoughts in his head into words. Worse, he had a feeling saying his thoughts out loud would make him feel lamer than he already did. "What am I supposed to do, Hanji? _No, I mean it_ ," he snapped, overriding her attempt to open her mouth and say something. Hanji clammed up immediately, but her eyes were still watchful and attentive. Levi opened his mouth to elaborate, but found that he seriously couldn't.

"Okay, Levi," Hanji tried after a couple of seconds. "Is this...about the newspaper?"

He gave her a curt nod of his head, glowering at the adjacent wall instead of meeting her head on.

"Petra and the Squad have noticed your...increasing irritation with them. But you're going to have to give me more to work with," Hanji said cautiously. "I've been keeping an eye on you, and you've progressed from annoyed to agitated in the span of a few days. You're even showing."

Levi understood what she meant. There wasn't much variation in his expressions most of the time, and even when he did give off reactions, they were severely muted. Shock on a normal person would probably look like wide eyes and a gaping mouth, but on Levi it was a quick flash of emotion across his eyes, maybe a little eye-widening if it really got to him. Most people couldn't read him at all without prolonged exposure.

If Hanji and the Squad were seeing his expressions more clearly, without him knowing, it meant something was really wrong.

"She," Levi began, then stopped at thought about it. Finally he settled on, "She is not what I expected. She..."

"Is pretty?" Hanji supplied. From her distracted expression, Levi gathered she was trying to recall the exact image on the day's paper.

"Yes," he admitted, eyeing the walls warily. It would be just his luck if the walls were bugged, even though he knew the likelihood was low. "But it's more than that. I know you kept harping about her social presence, but she seems to be extremely involved in public life. There's a genuinity in her that I...did not account for."

"But that's a good thing?" Hanji tried, another frown taking over her face. "Did you really want to marry a shallow, brainless thing from the Marian upcountry?"

Levi gave her a look, his jaw working to unleash the protest on the tip of his tongue. Hanji's eyes flickered wildly across his face and over the tense line of his shoulders, before coming back to meet his gaze. Levi was suddenly glad she was the one who was doing this. Her scientific perspective made her more objective and distanced when she was dissecting people, unlike Erwin, who always took up a tone laced with too much familiarity.

Suddenly Hanji's mouth fell open to form a small 'O'.

"You're afraid," she breathed. Levi could practically _feel_ the surprise in her voice wash over him. Although, it could also have been because he registered the same feeling running through his own mind a split second later.

He opened his mouth to object, but Hanji beat him to it. "You _are_ ," she said. Had it been anyone else Levi felt like he might have pounced, but Hanji's earnest expression kept him in his seat. "You _like_ genuinity in a person! And you weren't expecting anything like that from her, were you? You were so convinced she was going to be all uppity and two-faced. And you're probably more unnerved because, of all things, it was a photograph that showed everything. I mean, anyone can take a photograph of someone waving at a crowd and from the right angle it makes the viewer think, _yes_ Princess Eren loves the people and she's all soft and saint-like but it's another thing when you can sense honesty from the subject of the photograph! You're afraid you'll like her! But _why_? Levi there's a reason Erwin and I didn't flat-out refuse the King's proposal! Eren might be _really_ good for you. What's wrong with ---"

"She is the heiress of a _kingdom_ ," Levi interrupted, throwing Hanji a withering look. This was such a shitty idea. Now Levi would have all this crap running through his head on top of everything else. "Besides that, tell me honestly, Hanji. When have you ever known me to have a successful relationship with anybody? That _wasn't_ a friend," he added sharply. "You and Erwin have spent half a lifetime covering for my ass. At the end of the day, I am taciturn, crass, unapproachable, and I don't know how to take care of anybody, let alone a 21-year-old girl who was forced to leave everything behind to marry my old ass."

"Oh Levi," Hanji said sadly. Her mouth had pulled up into a little smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You built Squad Levi from nothing. Those kids out there look up to you. Why should Eren be any different?"

Levi looked away from her gaze, frowning.

Hanji sighed across from him.

"Hey, look at me for a second." Reluctantly, Levi turned back and forced himself to meet her hazel eyes. "This is totally not the advice I want to be giving right now, but just to appease you I'm going to say it. This marriage doesn't have to include love. Why don't you strive for friendship? I know you try to hide it, but you really care about everyone at this base. I bet you also really care for all those kids lying in the streets and enlisting in our army because they have no other prospects. You're literally going to be living with someone knowledgeable enough to fix this whole mess! And at the end of the day, Levi, you shouldn't push Eren away. Seriously, where is she going to go? What are we going to tell the Marians when their favourite princess finally loses all the light in her eyes? You can't push her away. You don't have to love her, but..."

Hanji trailed off but Levi understood. He knew Hanji was no stranger to his past, and that included everything from his streetrat days to his playboy run, the story behind his OCD, his redemption arc, the the blood, sweat and tears he had given to become Captain. This was not going to be an easy road by any means. Princess Eren might hate his guts from the get-go, but did he have to give her a reason right off the bat?

Levi hated that he had to ask it, but....better Hanji than Erwin.

"How?"

Hanji lit up like she had been waiting her whole life for him to ask the question. "Well, first off, remember that Eren is kind of under our care. That means we're responsible in part for her safety, her happiness, and her overall transition into Trost," she prattled. "You and I know that we're sort of a far cry from Marian Royalty so we'll have to pay attention to her needs. Who better to do that than you? It'll be really easy! You just have to ask her how she's doing and check in with her staff. Sure, you'll have to get a little closer than you're comfortable with, but nothing drastic! Go on engagements with her! Offer to drive instead of forcing a chauffeur or something! Spend a nice romantic evening on the rooftop look —— _okay okay it was a joke_!" This last part came out in a yelp as Hanji scrambled to avoid the kick Levi aimed at her leg. " _Leeeevi,"_ she pouted. "Don't you trust that I have your best interests at heart? I'm going to be there for you every step of the way. So is Erwin. He might be a bulky and conniving man, but he cares about you and he wouldn't throw your freedom away for a lost cause!"

"Tch," Levi grumbled, but Hanji had backed him into a corner. It wasn't like he was hiding the fact that he'd hung onto every word like a baby bat hanging upside down for the first time, either.

"Friendship," he said doubtfully.

Hanji nodded her head and leaned forward, a crazed grin on her face. "Friendship!" She trilled. "Ooooh it's going to be so fun! I'm totally going to help you! Eren's going to love us. Just watch, oh I'm _so_ good at this...it sucks that we won't really get to see her in Shiganshina; the King mentioned she wouldn't be attending the party or the negotia —-"

"What do you mean she's not coming?" Levi demanded, his brow raising in disbelief. "We're negotiating almost a decade of her life and she's not showing up?"

"You know, I thought it was pretty strange too," Hanji admitted, though it was an absent reply. Levi could practically hear the brakes screeching in her brain as their conversation took an unexpected detour. Hanji was always like that, her mind a steam engine, and the world around her determined to throw as many hurdles at her one-track thought process as possible. Levi was reluctantly impressed. Her level of scatterbrained would probably have gotten a lesser person killed. "She, er, I think the King mentioned something about her having an engagement that day?"

"An engagement more important than her engagement party?"

Hanji shrugged. "Who knows? But I do think it's weird that Eren has taken such a back-seat role in this mess. Erwin's always telling me how bright and passionate she is. Makes you wonder..."

"...If she's even been informed about the marriage?"

"It would suck, wouldn't it," Hanji murmured. "Being sold off like a pawn by your own father."

"Don't guilt-trip me," Levi snapped, but it was without bite. There was an uncomfortable feeling squirming around in his stomach and he pushed it down. Since when did he get so caught up in other people's messes? It wasn't a big surprise that Eren might not know exactly what was going on, considering that marriages took at least a year to finalize and what they were doing was practically eloping by Royal standards. No big wedding with 500 guests, no 7 tier cake, no carriage ride to the palace doors...instead there was a sheet of paper and a rushed ceremony in front of the Archbishop, with the King and some other Very Important People Levi couldn't be bothered to remember. 

The uncomfortable feeling intensified. Levi stood up and smoothened out his clothes, fixing Hanji with a stern look.

"Talk about this to anyone and I will gut you," he said, his tone reverting back to it's usual blank slate. "And give me the names of all he staff she's bringing."

"Planning to do some research, Captain?"

"It pays to know your guests," Levi said noncommittally. The truth was that he wanted enough information on her to be able to have a decent conversation, but he wasn't going to tell Hanji that.

The smile on her face suggested she knew better, though.

On his way out, Levi muttered, "Shitty four eyes," just loud enough for her to hear.

Hanji's rolling laugh told him she wasn't fooled.


	3. The Beginning of the End Part 1

When Eren woke up on Wednesday morning, she experienced exactly four seconds of uninterrupted bliss and lazy dozing before everything came rushing back to her. The next emotion she registered was a heavy type of dread that nestled itself in the base of her stomach, thoroughly eliminating the feeling of hunger that usually occupied the spot.

_Boy, if I'm feeling like this on the day of the party, I'm gonna be hurling by Friday._

She allowed herself an extra minute to nuzzle her face in the sheets and inhale the minty scent. Eucalyptus: it had been her mother's favourite.

After a while, though, Eren began to feel too agitated to remain in bed any longer. There was still a full schedule ahead of her. She had a meeting with her father about the marriage negotiations after breakfast, and at eleven she was scheduled for her final visit to the Children's Hospice in rural Shiganshina before rushing back for the party.

The Hospice visit had been Mikasa's idea. Their mother had been Patron of it in her time, and Eren had been officially given the title around a year ago. It was one of the many Patronages lined up for her, but she guessed now that they'd all be deferred until she re-entered the Country.

Regardless, Mikasa had thought it'd be best to keep Eren busy for the day, and knowing how antsy she was prone to become, Eren was glad for the foresight.

She tried to think happy thoughts while she went through the usual routine of showering and brushing her teeth, and took extra care while applying her makeup. She'd been sleeping pretty restlessly the past few nights and the last thing they needed was for the media to run more bad articles. Once she was satisfied with her foundation and concealer job, Eren padded into her room and pulled on her turtleneck for the day. The weather was slowly getting cooler in Maria, but snowfall wouldn't start until the first of December at the earliest. Eren let out a quiet sigh when she realized she would be spending Christmas with the Trostians this year. As the kingdom belonged to the south, she highly doubted there would be a satisfying level of snowfall.

Shiganshina was a different story in the winter. Granted, it was always really fucking cold, and the past few years they'd had a lot of ice storms, but Maria's Capital city was surrounded by enormous mountains that loomed like walls above the buildings. It should have been constricting, but the mountains were lovely. Only a few months ago, their bases had been covered by thousands of flowers that stretched for miles, and in the winter, the snow that covered them made Shiganshina one of the must-see cities of the world during the season. Being a port city, Shiganshina was nestled at the base of a smaller mountain while the others wrapped around the waterways like the Fjords in Norway. At least, the Fjords were the closest things Eren had seen to her home city. In the winter, especially the terrible ones, the water sometimes froze in certain places and snow-covered caps would drift along as people gathered in the local restaurants to watch.

She was going to miss it.

 _Okay, but at least Jean and Marco are going to stay with me_ , she reminded herself, but immediately felt guilty. They'd be missing their families more than she would, probably. Well, except for Marco -- both his parents had passed away when he was sixteen. He had an aunt somewhere, though, but from what Eren could recall they weren't very close. Jean was going to be a different matter altogether. Though he wasn't close with his father, Mrs Kirstein and her son were practically inseparable.

 _At least we'll have some warm greetings around the holiday season_ , Eren thought. _Even if it's not from my own family, it'll be something._ And, who knows; maybe they'd end up making a few friends over in Trost before their first month was up.

A big part of her was skeptical about the whole matter, however. She was going to be living with a bunch of seasoned soldiers in the Trostian countryside. In a military base.

 _"_ Think about food instead," Eren muttered to herself, grabbing a pair of white pants. It was almost time for breakfast...

Just as she finished dressing, Eren heard a series of soft knocks at her door. She knew it was Sasha before she'd even turned to glance at the camera screen, but the cursory glance had her walking a little faster. Sasha was holding a breakfast tray in one hand and a couple shopping bags in the other. Eren knew from experience that she should be excited. Sasha came up with some damn good surprises.

"Good morning," Sasha chirped, giving Eren a quick smile as she looked her up and down. She was dressed in another formal outfit, grey slacks and some lacy top thing that had been artfully covered up with a matching grey blazer. Eren tried to hide the sympathetic look that crawled onto her face, but Sasha's grimace told her she hadn't quite managed it.

"I'm stressed, too," Eren offered, letting Sasha walk into the room. She deposited her black heels outside in the doorway before walking in, setting the bags on the bedroom bench and moving towards Eren's desk to lay out the food.

"You hide it so much better," Sasha sighed back. "And that's saying a lot, considering how expressive your face is."

"Gee, thanks," Eren rolled her eyes, but it was fond. As Sasha set out the food, Eren poked her head around the bags, trying to see what was inside of them. Closer inspection revealed they were actually gift bags, and expensive ones too, with strong perfumes rolling off the tissue wrap stuffed inside. As much as she wanted to pick them up, Eren restrained herself. Sasha had this weird obsession with doing things "in the proper order". Meaning: if Eren messed with the bags before she was supposed to, Sasha would arrange a week's worth of meetings in her schedule.

As the seconds ticked by, however, Eren's curiosity began to eat at her. "So are we going to talk about the bags or what?"

"Oh, those!" Sasha said, some of her usual excitement returning to her voice. She gave them a quick glance over her shoulder. "They're --- actually, sit down and start eating first, okay? Sometimes you get too excited about things and forget to eat. You need a bit of food."

Eren shuffled on her feet, peering curiously at the bags and wondering if it was worth snatching one of them an overturning its contents. She was still contemplating it when Sasha appeared at her side and grabbed her elbow.

"You have such bad impulse control," Sasha scolded, ignoring Eren's pout. "How are you going to live without me?"

Eren's good mood evaporated like water in heat. "Don't _remind_ me," she said bitterly. "I haven't even started looking for a new PA. All the applications look terrible. I read a few who were all in the landscaping business. How's that going to help them? When have I ever asked you to mow the lawn?"

"Oh, I'm sure they're all great," Sasha grinned. She took a seat in front of Eren and planted her chin in her palm with a smile. "Come on, all I have to do is organize your schedule and get your clothes cleaned. There probably won't be that much to do in Trost."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Eren muttered. She grabbed the croissant on the dish and tore it in half, giving Sasha a look when she half-heartedly protested the action. "Besides, Trost will still be busy. Maybe not in the first month, but you read the document. I'm helping King Erwin with social programs. It's going to suck not having an experienced PA."

"You realize that if you ask your dad he'll get you,like, some top-notch girl from Cambridge or something."

"I don't want some doe-eyed graduate as my PA," Eren complained, scowling as she tore her half of the croissant with her teeth. As she chewed, some of her irritation began filtering into her expression. "I mean," Eren continued, once she'd swallowed, "Whoever my dad finds is gonna be an upper class snob. They'll be all, 'right a way, your highness' and 'of course, your highness', and 'yes, your highness'! How am I supposed to work with someone like that, huh? Would _you_ want to work with someone like that? I thought so! Besides, I _like_ you. You're normal and talk back to me like you mean it. I'm gonna spend half my life working with a bunch of stuffy government types, Sasha, why should I start now? _And_ ," Eren pressed on, pointing the butterknife she'd picked up at the red-haired figure in front of her in vexation, "I know I said it before but I wouldn't _have_ to look for a new PA if it wasn't for this stupid marriage thing! I still can't believe he rushed this! You know marriages take like, a year to fourteen months to pull off, right? This just sucks."

Sasha made a sympathetic noise and pried the knife from between Eren's fingers, side-eyeing it as she placed it back down on the table. "This whole thing has gotten you all worked up," Sasha noted. Eren narrowed her eyes.

" _You_ sound unconcerned," she said suspiciously.

Internally, Eren felt her heart sink. Of course Sasha wouldn't be too caught up in the PA issue. She'd been working for Eren for three years now, and most of that time had consisted of sleeping 5-6 hours a day, or running around fetching clothes and herding Eren to meetings, scheduling appearances, arguing with the upper class, letting Eren drag her around on her various spur-of-the-moment trips...she knew it probably wore Sasha out more than she let on, even if they'd had their fair share of fun from the arrangement. Could Eren really begrudge her the chance to go back to Dauper and start a new life? Sasha had always wanted to travel the continent. Last year, she'd come on a trip to the Americas with Eren as part of her officiation tour, but other than that, they hadn't flown much. Sasha had the money she'd saved from her salary. It was a pretty big salary.

Sasha seemed to sense where Eren's thoughts were going.

"You know," Sasha said quietly, "I really liked working for you. I liked you from the second you walked into my shop. You're really smart, Eren, and you know what you have to do to get what you want, but you're weirdly nice about it. Like, it's kind of unnerving sometimes. To the point where I wonder if you're even capable of hiding anything at all."

Eren frowned. "Is this going somewhere?"

Sasha laughed. Eren liked her laugh. She always had. It was full and slightly obstructive; it only ever came in one volume, but it was warm and genuine. Besides, Sasha's face did this thing where it sort of crumpled when she did it; her eyes srunched together and she ducked her head, and her mouth pulled back over her teeth. Countless nights had been spent by Eren's bedside in the hotels they'd stayed in, laughing and laughing and laughing until dawn.

Those were the memories she'd take with her to Trost, Eren decided; nothing bitter about the relationships she'd be leaving behind or the ones she'd had to end. Just things like this, good times, Sasha giving her an amused smile as she passed a hand over her mouth, trying to get back to business.

Her eyes were still dancing when she answered. "What I'm trying to say," she continued, one tan hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Is that I've always admired your smartness and kindness. But sometimes, you can be really dense about certain things. I mean, sometimes I think you have a really good understanding of people and then you do something that makes me think, _God, she's an idiot._ "

Eren let out a sound of protest. "I can't believe you're trashing your employer after handing in your notice!" she whined, still thoroughly confused about where this was going. "What's your point, anyway?"

"I never handed _in_ a notice," Sasha said. Her amused smile returned to her face. Eren sent her a confused look.

"You don't have to?" Eren tried, scratching at her neck. She felt like she was missing something here. Sasha's smile turned a little exasperated as Eren studied her from across the table, one hand reaching between the space to grip Eren's wrist in an uncharacteristic moment of vulnerability. The thing was, Sasha teased Eren about being the open book, but between the two of them, Eren thought Sasha was the easiest to read. She was a simple girl with simple tastes and aspirations, when it came down to it. She became predictable after a few months of easy jokes and smiles. There was nervous Sasha that professionalized her wardrobe, there was scared Sasha that fiddled with her hands and latched onto Eren's arm, there was angry Sasha with her hands on her hips, and then there was affectionate Sasha, who looked like this: gentle smile, dancing eyes, and, whenever she directed the look at Eren, hints of amused disbelief and exasperation lingering in the lines of her face.

"Eren," she said, momentarily tightening her grip on her wrist. "Don't you get it? You don't need a new PA. I'm coming with you."

For several long seconds, Eren stared at her, uncomprehending. She was sure Sasha's mouth had moved. In fact, Eren had even heard _noise_ coming from her mouth. Logically, the expression on Sasha's face totally paired up with what Eren _thought_ she had heard, but her mind was still scrambling for the reasoning to back it up. _Why the fuck would she move entire Kingdoms_? Eren thought, her brow furrowing. _What about her dad_?

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by Sasha's fond voice.

"I already talked to Pa," she explained. Her smile grew as Eren began blushing, realizing she'd been talking out loud. "I wanted to come all along, actually, but he was the one that finally pushed me into doing it."

"But _why_?" Eren asked. Her voice came out as little more than a hoarse whisper, and she tried to clear her throat. "Sasha, it's so far...and I'm going to be there for like, five years at least."

Sasha's smile transformed into a full grin, her excitement breaking free and spilling over like a cup that had been filled to the brim with water. Surprised, Eren tried to retract her hand almost instinctively, but Sasha gripped it harder and used it to tether herself as she leaned forward.

"I realized something these past few years," Sasha said. The earnestness of her gaze had Eren relaxing a little; her genuine excitement had Eren leaning in unconsciously. "I used to want to travel so that I could eat and see everything for myself. But you've been doing _so much_ for people when you travel. You always visit homeless centers and local community organizations. I realized I want to do that too. Sure, one day I know I'll take a leave of absence or something, a long one, mind you, at least eighteen months, and travel alone the way I wanted to, but I feel like I've only _just_ started my job as PA. You're going to do so many cool things in Trost, and even more when you come home. I want to help you do it. Plus," Sasha added, losing a little momentum and turning almost shy, "I consider you a friend, okay? I know you're the future Queen and everything, but I do. And it's really shitty that you have to ---"

But she didn't get to finish.

Eren reached out and grabbed her by the blazer front before she could think about it, hoisting Sasha out of her seat. Her friend let out a yelp of surprise at the sudden action, but Eren was already yanking her forwards and pulling her into an awkward hug, fumbling as the table kept their bottom halves separated. Sasha tried to steady her as Eren's hip bumped hard against it, but their hands and the impact sent the glass of cranberry juice toppling over, onto the white surface of the table, the red liquid trickling midway until it made its way onto the white carpet at Eren's feet.

"The juice ---" Sasha started, unnecessarily. Eren hugged her tighter. She tried to put a lot of unspoken things into the hug, mainly because her throat had seized up, but also because Eren had always done things better with her hands than her mouth. Talking, she reflected, was Armin's forte.

Sasha seemed to understand, because she squeezed Eren back just as tightly.

They stayed like that for a much-needed moment, but Eren released her eventually. The awkward angle was making her back hurt. She was a little lost for what to say next, but Sasha didn't need any prompting. As soon as Eren began cleaning up the juice, she made her way to the bags and brought them over.

"Engagement gifts," Sasha snickered. Eren swallowed a huge mouthful of croissant, her green eyes comically wide.

"No way! Who are they from? Did they come with cards?"

"One of them is from Jean's parents, but I'm not sure about the other one. I also don't think you'll be getting any more. Maybe some marriage gifts will be sent to Trost, but..."

"Nah, this is enough," Eren said, shoving a strawberry in her mouth and tossing the napkins in the bin. Her white carpet was going to stain, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to be seeing it for a long time. "Let's start with the Kirsteins'."

Sasha pushed over a red bag with black tissue paper that had a card sitting at the top. She tore it open first, skimming over the contents and immediately lighting up. "They've donated to the Children's Hospice!" Eren said excitedly, sliding the certificate over to Sasha. "The one I'm going to today! This is so amazing. Lauren — you know, the lady who runs it —- was telling me a couple weeks back that they were thinking of having a fundraiser to build a new wing in the East Ward, but this should more than cover it!"

"That's really nice of them," Sasha agreed, giving her a grin. "At least you know something good is coming out of all of this, huh?"

Eren hummed thoughtfully as she removed the tissue paper and stuck her hand inside the bag, a happy smile taking over her features. Sasha was right. If this was the sort of thing that came out of her engagement, she could suck it up for now.

The moment Eren pulled out the Kirsteins' second gift, all her thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"Oh, that's adorable," Sasha said softly.

Eren examined the objects in her hands. This was undoubtedly Mrs Kirstein's work. In her left hand, Eren held a beautiful leather-bound photo album. It was a deep viridian colour, with swirls of lighter green moving across the cover. Her name had been embedded in the top in gold letters —- her full name, Eren Ymir Carla Maria Jaeger. Usually the mass of names made her roll her eyes, but this time it seemed different. The gift was paired with a white Polaroid camera, a Fuji, as well as a regular compact Canon one; no doubt her intention was to have Eren document her five years in Trost and look back on it fondly in the next decade or so. Two cameras might have been overdoing it, but Jean's mom was really into sentimentalism and aesthetics, and sure enough, when Eren opened the first page, she found a handwritten note from the lady herself.

_To Eren, for your engagement:_  
_We wish you all the best. I hope this photo album will grow to be a source of comfort and joy for you. Curate it to reflect your heart, and it will always bring you home._  
_With love,_  
_Maria and Robert Kirstein_

"It _is_ adorable," Eren murmured back to Sasha, touched. It was cheesy and cute and overall, something Eren would have loved to get from her own mother. Not that the late Carla Jaeger wouldn't be contributing to her daughter's marriage: a huge portion of her jewelry would be given to Eren on Friday night, when the marriage documents were signed. Still, it was nice to know she had a real, living person looking out for her at home.

"Next one?" Sasha prompted. Eren modded eagerly and held her arm out for the next bag.

It turned out the other gift was from her own father, to Eren's surprise. The box she'd pulled out had been a dark black jewelry box, although the name of the jeweller wasn't written anywhere. She hesitated a moment before opening it, but when she did, her mouth fell open in shock.

Now, Eren was pretty used to seeing fancy jewels. Her mother had worn them, the Lords and Ladies and Counts and Countesses wore them, the European royals that she saw from time to time wore them, etc etc. But the ones in front of her were exquisite. And actually, they were quite simple. The set in the black box was an emerald and gold set, with earrings and a matching necklace. The design was a cliché but not cringey: the earrings had emerald centres surrounded by little diamonds, and gold extensions with the same stone, acting as petals —- only, the petals were hollow. It was an imitation of the roses on the Marian flag, but instead of the traditional red, her father had decided on green, a nod to their shared eye colour. The necklace had the same design on the pendant, attached to a short gold chain.

"Christ," Sasha breathed, when Eren pushed the box over to her. Eren could only nod, eyes a little wide. It wasn't lost on her that her father hadn't come by to give her the jewelry himself, or that he'd waited until the day they were discussing the wedding agreement to have the gift delivered. Eren knew she should be grateful to be receiving such an extravagant gift in the first place, but felt dull stab of disappointment nonetheless.

Or maybe it was hurt. She couldn't tell anymore.

Sasha poked her in the arm. "You should wear it today," she suggested. "But change your shirt to the green turtleneck."

Eren contemplated the idea for a second. It would be a nice gesture and the press would gobble it up. On the other hand, if her father was the one who chose the set, it probably came from a well-established jeweller who wouldn't benefit from the publicity as much as a younger maker. Plus....

Eren caught Sasha's eye as the idea came to her.

"That's the scheming face," Sasha said slowly, her eyes sharpening. "Let's be up front here, okay? Am I going to regret this?"

"The dress you picked out for me is green," Eren said. A maniacal grin was stretching across her face. She knew it creeped everyone the hell out, but she felt the familiar rush of excitement in her blood and didn't quite care that Sasha winced in front on her.

Hesitantly, she asked, "You mean...the one for the party?"

"Don't you think it matches perfectly with this set?" Eren asked, her grin stretching. "Think about it: no one's seen this except my father. He'll recognize me instantly, but he won't be able to do anything without giving me away. He'll only be able to watch as we administer our master plan."

Sasha laughed nervously. "You sounds like you're planning a coup."

Eren could tell, though, by the gleam in her eye that she thought it was a good idea. It was tame enough that Grisha wouldn't give her a flaying, but just defiant enough to set his teeth on edge. She deserved an award or something for this. Even Armin would have to agree that it was a good idea, and he tried to feed Eren's scheming as little as possible.

"If Ackerman mistreats you, I'll almost feel bad for him," Sasha mused.

Eren positively beamed.

They sat like that for a few minutes more, chatting over what Sasha would pack and what her father had said. Since she lived more to the north, Eren didn't see Mr. Braus very often. From what she could remember, he was a tall man with dark hair like her's, a sharp face and a thin goatee. Sasha had inherited his sun-kissed skin and brown eyes, but where Mr. Braus' eyes were small and speculative, Sasha's were large and warm, and dancing sometimes with mischief. At least, these days they were. When Eren had met her in Dauper almost three years ago, there had been a significant lack of lustre in her eyes, and more of a weary hardness that poked out from time to time.

Apparently, he just wanted Sasha to have some time off every year so she could come back and see him.

"Don't be stupid," Eren scoffed, when Sasha told her. "Take a month off. Fly him over. Actually, _I'll_ fly him over. Put it in the schedule."

Sasha started blinking furiously after that, so Eren put away the breakfast tray for her and fished out her notepad while she composed herself. Then, all too soon, it was time for them to make their way to the conference room for her to meet with her father.

The Main Palace, or the Waterfront, as Eren liked to call it, only had one Conference room in the entire layout. Granted, it was a big room, and furnished lavishly, with a gold and ivory colour scheme flooding the walls and floors. It was well known by politicians and foreign royals that the King rarely did business in the Waterfront --- it was merely a stopover for guests. Situated in the heart of the capital, visitors had everything at their fingertips while they rested in unrivalled luxury. If anyone _needed_ a conference, there was a private establishment about a half hour's drive from the Palace, through one of Shiganshina's most beautiful neighborhoods. It was very clever, Eren thought: the sort of thing Armin might have devised if he'd been the one planning 400 years ago. As they drove, dealmakers would witness the breadth of life in the city, not to mention some of the most picturesque places in the country. Besides, as her father always told her, never mix business with pleasure. And always please a businessman.

Now, more than ever, Eren understood what his point was. How could someone enjoy their time in the beauty of the Palace when they knew, in one of these rooms, the fates of whole nations would be decided?

When Eren opened the door, Grisha Jaeger was already seated at the head of the conference table, donning a blue dress shirt rolled up to display the Cartier watch wrapped around his heavy wrist. He glanced at it as Eren slid the door closed, giving Sasha a nervous smile while her father couldn't see. The last thing Eren saw was Sasha motioning to the chair across the hall.

"On time," her father noted, motioning to the chair to his right as she turned. Eren hesitated only a fraction of a second before walking over. Though she was wearing flats, she couldn't help but feel the disturbance her feet made in the silence of the enormous room.

But as Eren settled into the plush chair, she realized something else was off. There were no guards stationed at the doors or in the hallway. In fact, she couldn't remember seeing many of them in the entire vicinity of the Conference Room. This wasn't normally strange, given that the room was seldom used, but her father had guards flocking him like bees on a flower wherever he moved.

Even Mikasa and Armin, she remembered, were busy secretly tracking Ackerman and his crew that morning.

Then her father did something that threw her off. He asked, voice casual as ever, "Did you sleep well?"

Eren's fingers paused in their act of uncapping her pen. She met her father's green eyes with her own, but his poker face was infallible as always. Eren felt herself lean away slightly.

"Yeah," she said, after a few beats. Then, usure what else she should say, she asked, "And...you?"

"You look tired," her father commented, ignoring her question. Eren stared back at him, nonplussed. It wasn't that Grisha never asked after her wellbeing. He just didn't ask her to her _face_. And he never brought it up when he was angry with her. "Something's bothering you."

At that, Eren felt her wariness shatter into irritation. "Wow, I wonder why," she shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, more to change the atmosphere than anything else, she added, "Actually, let me spell it out for you, in case you're confused: I'm not losing any sleep over the fact that you're marrying me off. I'm more concerned about the asshole you've shipped me away to. Did you know that Levi Ackerman was an acquaintance of _Kenny Ackerman_? You know, _the serial killer_?"

In all honesty, the thought _had_ been plaguing Eren yesterday. While a long conversation with Armin and Mikasa had dissuaded most of her fears, she was still angry at her father for withholding the information, and agreeing to this whole thing in the first place.

Besides, Eren liked having more control over their discussions.

Much to her relief, her father sighed, his careful and balanced facade slipping away. "Eren," he said tiredly, "Levi Ackerman ---"

"Was once the right-hand-man of the Underground's biggest thug!" she intercepted, glaring. Now that she'd brought it up, she might as well do the job thoroughly. "You want to know why I look so tired? It's because my fiancé ---"

"Levi Ackerman was born on the filth-infested surface of a brothel floor," her father said sharply, his hand shooting out to grab her by the arm. Eren was so startled by this movement that she dropped her pen, flinching, but he went on without batting an eye. "His mother died not long after. Kenny Ackerman took that boy off the streets and carved him into the most dangerous weapon this world has ever seen _and will ever see_ ," he said, voice rising as Eren's mouth opened in fury, "And we are _lucky_ \--- yes, Eren _, lucky_ \--- that Captain Ackerman decided to turn around and fight for humanity. He is, without _question,_ the most valuable asset in our fight against King Reiss. Do not question my judgement again."

"I have every right to question your judgement!" Eren snarled, wrenching her arm from her father's grip. All the cool she'd managed to collect before entering the room had vanished. The hot pool of anger that had deserted her on Friday was now boiling in her stomach, flushing her cheeks and shooting into her heart. "None of this makes sense! Armin thinks so too, by the way, so don't tell me I'm being stupid! Ackerman is a great choice if we were planning to fight a physical war with Sina, but we're _not_. Given the goals of this marriage, and the defensive measures Trost is willing to take in case we get in trouble, King Erwin is the best option, because he is literally _the controller of the whole nation_! So _what_ is going on? You're hiding something from me!"

Grisha Jaeger looked one breath short of shouting at her, but he inhaled deeply and visibly tried to reign in his anger. "I have already told you," he said tightly, "That King Erwin refuses to marry."

"What if _I_ refuse to marry?" Eren shot back. "What if, Papa? We both know that it's a stupid reason. If you thought it was important ---"

"And I _don't_ think it's important. Believe me, it doesn't matter if you marry King Erwin or Captain Ackerman. Either way, we will get what we want, and for Christ's sake, Eren, the man is not going to hurt you."

"It's not fair that you get angry when I bring that up," Eren told him. Her breathing had gotten heavy again. There was a light burning sensation in her throat and her voice was quieter that she would've liked for it to be.

Meaning: she was about to cry.

 _But really_ , she told herself, _What did you expect? This was_ your _plan, and your plans always backfire_.

For several seconds, the room became very, very still. Eren's eyes were fixed on the golden studs of the chair in front of her, listening to the sound of her own uneven breathing. This is what she'd tried to hide from Mikasa and Armin. Because when it came down to it, when it _really_ came down to it, Eren was afraid of the rough country that awaited her. Trost was founded on blood and civil strife that spanned decades. In fact, King Erwin's father had led the first revolt that liberated the Kingdom from its original Monarch almost twenty years ago. His son, then only twenty-one, was given a golden crown on his little blonde head when a battle brought his father's bloody corpse to his door, with (as the stories went) seven arrows jutting out of his chest.

Not bullet holes. Fucking _arrows._

Trost's people were battered creatures, war-torn, a whole generation carrying the loss of thousands on their backs as they walked up and down the streets. Eren was pretty good with people, and she never gave a task anything less than her absolute best. But she wasn't stupid: this was out of her depth.

And if that wasn't enough, she thought, Levi Ackerman was a man built on the tense line of duty. The report had been very clear: even in the Underground he was ruthless, and in Trost's military he'd gained respect for his compliance and ability to follow orders. She had grown up with the stories of his exploits and battles, and there had been lots, despite him being only nine years older than her. Eren, by contrast, was born with the sole purpose of rebelling against authority. How, exactly, was she supposed to make a husband out of a military man? She could only last so long as a "doting wife". Why wasn't it rational for her to be afraid? Why couldn't she address these fears with her father, and have him take her seriously? Why was it always this: Eren screaming her heart out, spilling truth like water, and Grisha wishing his heir had been colder, sharper, smarter?

Only five minutes ago she and Sasha had been laughing.

Eren watched, a little numb, as her father shifted in her peripheral. Too afraid that she'd break down if he turned to meet him, Eren stayed still as he sorted for something to say, withdrawing her hand from the tabletop as she did so.

After another moment, her father placed one palm on the table where she could see. If Eren hadn't known better, she'd say it was a gesture of surrender. But then, after another beat, he sighed.

"Schatzi," he said. Eren was so surprised she whipped her head over to stare at him, lips parting as her brain stumbled on itself, trying to process what she'd just heard. Her anger dulled in favour of caution flooding through her veins.

The Jaeger line originated in Germany, as it was, 500 years ago. Eren had been taught how their dialect deviated from the modern version over the years and so on, but she'd forgotten everything as soon as she graduated high school. Not that it mattered --- Marian had quite a few German words mixed in it, and this happened to be one of them. Schatz, schatzi, schätzchen: _treasure_. It had been, among the hundred other terms of endearment her mother had once showered her with, Eren's favourite.

Needless to say, she was instantly wary. Grisha, however, either didn't care or didn't notice. He met her stare without blinking, something strange bleeding into his expression. Eren belatedly realized his face was softening.

"I know we have not seen things eye to eye for many years," he said slowly. Eren couldn't help but notice the tension in his shoulders despite the relaxed baritone of his voice, but she was quickly distracted by his next words. "Ever since your mother died...things have been hard for us. You have her determination, you know. The same stubbornness and passion. Perhaps if she were still here, I..." swallowing, he trailed off into a moment of heavy silence. Eren was still trying to process where the fuck this had come from when he his fingers flexed on the dark surface in front of her.

"Dad?"

Grisha's head snapped up, almost in surprise. He blinked once, twice, before his features smoothened out. Eren watched as a small smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. "Sorry. But it's always hard...what I'm trying to say, Eren, is that I've made a lot of mistakes as a King. More as a father. And perhaps --- no --- I know for certain that we could have avoided this situation if I had been less reckless and paranoid in the past, but... I won't put you in harm's way, Schatzi. I did my research, I weighed ever possibility against the other. You will be safe in Trost, and this alliance will secure both Kingdoms. If you choose not to trust me as a King, trust me as a father."

Eren scratched at her leg under the table, again uncertain. She didn't really want to leave the kingdom on bad blood with her father. On some level, she knew she was going to be okay with all of this in the end, if it really helped the kingdom, and this was probably as close to an apology as she was going to get from the King. In his eyes, it was probably a valiant surrender.

She would take what she could get.

.......

In the end, Grisha got Eren to agree to all the business and social obligations he had negotiated. It wasn't too difficult once she'd looked at the statistics. They arranged for her to leave with the King Erwin, Ackerman, and Zoe as soon as the signing was finished on Friday, along with Marco, Jean and Sasha. Mikasa and Armin had expressed a desire to help her settle in as well, and after another short argument Eren came out victorious on that front, too. The only hitch in the ride was when her father had the audacity to mention offspring.

"Stop right there," Eren had said, mortified. "That's totally none of your business."

"Be reasonable," her father retorted, giving her a stern look. "You know how a monarchy works. There needs to be an heir to the Throne."

"Sure, but we're not putting that in the contract," Eren fired back. "I'm marrying a total stranger, hello! Plus half of all marriages end in divorce."

Her father's business facade rapidly faded into an icy glare. "There will be no divorce."

 _Yeah, we'll see about that_ , Eren thought. Out loud, she said, "I'm not talking about babies on Friday. Dad, I'm not, okay? That's something that'll either come up naturally, or not at all."

Her father's eyes narrowed, assessing her face. Eren knew his bullshit detection meter was pretty high, but as she thought about it herself, she realized she wasn't lying. If having a baby was another thing she had to do to secure the kingdom, she knew she'd find it within herself to do it.

Just not for another decade.

Eventually her father let out another long sigh, looking unhappy but not pressing the issue. Eren relaxed. Maybe he'd drop a subtle hint while he met with the entourage tonight, but as long as Eren didn't have to negotiate the terms of her own fucking pregnancy in a meeting, she didn't care.

Needless to say, she was exhausted by the time she emerged from the meeting room.

Sasha glanced up from her smartphone as Eren walked out, leaving her father seated at the table with the signed documents. She took one look at her and winced.

Eren started down the hall. "Don't say anything," she muttered.

For some reason, Eren found Sasha smiling out of the corner of her eye.

"Really?" She asked playfully. "You don't want to know what Mikasa and Armin found?"

Eren paused, momentarily forgetting her annoyance. _Right_. Mikasa and Armin had supposedly found a way to infiltrate the hotel Ackerman and his entourage were staying in.

"Any juicy gossip?" She asked casually. As they walked towards the palace entrance, guards started appearing against the walls. They were out of the safety zone.

Sasha grinned. "No, but we have some interesting photos from the incident. Shall I pull them up, Your Highness?"

"Please do. And arrange for Hannes to pick us up in the evening, I don't want anyone else."

"Of course, Your Highness." Sasha took two rapid steps and pushed open the door, flooding the room with autumn light. Eren had barely taken a step outside when Marco and Jean materialized at her side, dressed in their usual slacks and shirts.

"Beautiful day, Your Highness," Marco murmured, eyes fixed on the endless blue above them. Eren felt her interest pique as they passed another set of guards stationed outside. Whatever Mikasa had found, it was _good_.

"Ms Braus, the news?"

"In the car," Sasha said under her breath. They were almost at the vehicle. Eren could see Hannes' blond head in the driver's seat about four feet away and picked up her pace, side eyeing Sasha as she did so. As soon as they got to the door, Jean and Marco parted ways, Jean heading to the front seat while Marco opened the rear for her and Sasha. They called out a synchronized greeting to Hannes, who gave Eren a small smile in the mirror, but Eren barely returned it before snatching the phone from Sasha's grasp and unlocking it.

"She sent us photos of the three of them," Sasha informed her. "Unfortunately your beau seems a little paranoid and won't go near the windows, so there's only a few of him but —-"

"Just show me already!" Eren interrupted, growing tired of the build up. Impatience was making her fingers itch. She didn't much care for pictures of King Erwin or Zoe; she'd seen the former a few times already, and there were plenty of pictures of Zoe on the Internet. What she wanted was _Ackerman_. The bastard had almost nothing on him online, and since he was no longer a wanted villain, either he or King Erwin had had his images removed from police files and records over the years.

Sasha snickered a little from beside her, but snatched her phone back to open the message Mikasa had sent. Marco pulled Eren back by the shoulders and made her put on the seatbelt.

"I almost envy you," Sasha whispered, a little gleam appearing in her eye as she located the message and passed the device over. "Third figure on the right."

Eren grabbed the phone greedily, eyes darting across the screen until she located the dark figure.

Then her jaw dropped.

"Why the fuck is he so hot?!"


	4. Cold, Dark, and...Photogenic?

The look Jean gave her was decidedly unimpressed, his brown eyes showing the irritation that his on-duty poker face was trained to conceal. "Your standards are depressingly low."

"Of course. I dated _you_."

"Ha ha," Jean groused, mouth turning down at the corners as both Marco and Sasha coughed to hide their laughs. "But seriously. He's about a foot shorter than you and looks like he's still coming out of his emo phase."

Eren glanced down at the screen again, contemplating. Jean had a point. Dressed in all black aside from the white cravat (and really, who wore those anymore?), with a flat, detached expression on his face, Levi Ackerman looked like the pupil of a 2000s scene kid. His pale face really didn't help matters, especially with how it contrasted with his obsidian hair. Add a few piercings and tattoos, and he'd totally check out on the emo criteria.

But there was also something else to him. Eren didn't know if she'd call him 'normal', or even handsome; but there was a settled sort of calm on his shoulders, something watchful in his eyes, and his hair was just tame enough to pass as professional, with its subtle undercut and long sides, which had been gelled back. _Short, dark, and handsome_ , she mused, maybe that was it. The selling point was the rippling muscle on his arms, straining as he leaned them on whatever surface Mikasa wasn't able to include in the shot. Eren scrolled through the rest of the images, five total. The last one gave her a lovely view of his back, body caught in the action of turning around. Long fingers were threaded through raven hair, shirt lifting slightly from the waist, legs moving and _my God, that ass ----_

Hannes let out a startled noise from the driver's seat. Eren's head snapped up in embarrassment, but Sasha's sharp giggle drowned out her apology.

"What happened to 'ewww, he's a serial killer ----"

"I'm not less afraid," Eren huffed, slapping Sasha's fingers as they began reaching for the phone. "I'm just _saying_ , he's a hot serial killer."

"Maybe that's how he lures in his victims," Sasha stage-whispered. "With his charming smile and good looks."

"Bullshit," Jean called. "That man looks like he's never smiled a day in his life."

"He's right about that," Marco murmured, filing through the same photos on his own phone. Eren looked up at him thoughtfully. Unlike Jean, Marco was really good at distanced observation. He always relied on facts, never on instinct. Jean usually went with whatever his gut told him --- not that he was often wrong, but there was something reassuring about knowing Marco could back up his opinion with something tangible.

"What do you think?" Eren asked him.

Marco spared her a quick and assessing glance before he responded, probably looking for some sort of hidden uncertainty on her face. When he found nothing, he nodded once, as if satisfied. "The four of us --- me, Jean, Armin and Mikasa --- have all dug into every crevice looking for intel on Ackerman. I think your father is right when he says Ackerman won't hurt you --- as long as there's no reason to. Recent reports suggest Ackerman has a strong moral compass, releasing his anger on what he believes are 'corrupt' people. All the targets he's hit over the past decade have been shady businessmen, con men, murderers, cartel leaders --- criminals."

"But it's the same thing as a death sentence," Eren replied tersely. "Who are they to decide who lives and dies? Why couldn't they give them a fair trial and send them to prison?"

Marco only nodded again, acquiescing to her point. He'd heard the same argument from her before. Eren had no idea if he agreed with it or not, but he never refuted what she said, either. Only listened.

"Anyhow," Marco continued, "Ackerman is a pretty reserved man. Our intel tells us that his only close friends are King Erwin and Zoe. He's close with his Squad members as well, but to a certain extent. My best guess is that he trusts them completely, with his life and the lives of those around him, but I can't say for certain if he considers them friends, or confidantes...his personality is closed off, cold almost. It makes sense considering the sort of work he does."

Eren hummed, the words somehow unsurprising. If was very fitting, really: dark and handsome and cold. If Levi Ackerman was a decade younger, he would be the star of some generic teen fantasy novel.

Her thoughts turned less cheerful as she considered it and looked back at the pictures. Everything pointed to it, from the unrumpled fabric across his chest to his straight posture and hardened face. Dark, handsome, cold.

And dangerous.

No matter how attractive he was, Eren reminded herself that she couldn't afford to forget who she was marrying.

......................................................

In the hotel room, Levi was scowling at the serene expression on Hanji's face.

"What I'm fucking telling you," he was saying, "Is that someone is watching us."

Hanji was dressed in her pyjamas, her messy brown hair pulled into what Levi guessed was supposed to be a bun. Her glasses sat perfectly on her face. In other words, she couldn't care less how he felt or what he was saying, or that, for the past hour and a half, Levi had been trying to convince Hanji that someone was tailing them. He wasn't sure when it had started, which unnerved him all the more. All he knew was that he'd been looking out at the city near the window and had suddenly felt the hairs on his neck standing on end.

"I've been playing this game for most of my life," he snapped at her. "You're telling me you don't trust me?"

Hanji groaned and plopped her face between her open palms, elbows resting on the table. Her mouth pulled into the too-familiar pout she was known to sport when discussing something she thought was already obvious to everyone around her. Levi might have been annoyed if it was anyone else, but Hanji knew some weird shit, and Levi had long since given up trying to keep up with her.

After a few seconds of staring, Hanji's pout gave way to a small sigh that rushed from between her lips. She propped herself up, only to slump back in her wooden chair.

"If you've been playing this game your whole life," she said, "Shouldn't you already know who's watching us?"

Levi considered it for a moment, his mind flying through the possibilities. King Grisha had no reason to spy on them --- they had the upper hand on the deal. Besides, Erwin had essentially cemented the deal on all but paper. There were no thugs after Levi in Shiganshina, so that ruled out less savoury opponents. The only person left with a valid motive was...

"Princess Eren?" he asked in disbelief. "Why? Isn't she busy today?"

Hanji blinked. Then her eyes narrowed in a similar show of disbelief. " _Why_? Hello, she's marrying a complete stranger! Of course she's going to spy on you!"

"Well she's bad at it," Levi frowned.

"I don't think so," Hanji disagreed, shooting him a calculating look. "Do you know from exactly which point we were trailed? Did they leave any signs? Are they being obvious? No, no, and _no_ pe." She smiled, thoughtful. "If it weren't for your weirdly sensitive instincts, you might not have noticed."

" _You_ noticed."

Hanji shrugged. "I was expecting it. It's all very teen-romance like," she grinned. "I can't wait to ask her how they pulled it off. My guess is that they're stationed in one of the buildings around us. I'm sure if we asked the right questions we can find them in the next ten minutes."

"That's what I mean," Levi insisted. "It's a sloppy job."

Hanji actually rolled her eyes. "If you're looking at it from a mission perspective, of course it is. But they're not looking for intel, are they? They want photos of you. It's not like you're easy to google. Besides, have you considered that they want you to notice them, to send a message or something?"

Levi snorted. "To what? Intimidate _me_? It's going to take more than a couple of teenage shits hanging around windows to scare me, Hanji."

"Can we just drop it?" Hanji asked, her voice dangerously close to a whine. "Please? It's just honest curiosity, Levi. The more pressing matter at hand is this schedule and the way we're supposed to enter. Look, King Grisha's even sent us a list of instructions on where we should stop and wave to the crowd."

"Only a king would have the audacity to order his guests about."

"And it seems only the groom of the most popular princess on this side of the world has the audacity to ---"

"Oh fuck off," Levi groaned. "Fucking fine. Pass me the fucking schedule." He hated this, the technicalities of things. Unless it was a mission --- and this clearly wasn't one. He couldn't give less of a fuck about how many people were supposed to be somewhere and when he was supposed to wave and smile. What was the point of it? He didn't smile unless he genuinely liked someone. Hanji, Erwin, and Petra were the few people who had been endearing enough to draw one out of him.

Hanji took a deep breath, and exhaled. If Levi didn't know better, he'd think she was tired, but they had been sitting at the table for less than two hours and half the time she had been sipping her coffee and ignoring everything coming out of his mouth.

To his surprise, she fixed him with shrewd and oddly reprimanding look.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Levi snapped. "You've been harping at me for God knows how long about this fucking schedule. Can we please get it the fuck over with."

"We need to talk."

Levi threw her a dirty look. "What do you think we've been doing this whole time?"

"No, what I mean is, we have to talk about you and your behaviour. Specifically your horrible vocabulary."

That made him pause. He considered her for a moment. Hanji looked almost sheepish, scratching absently at her neck as she met his eyes. Levi knew he was about to get a gentle flaying for his incessant cussing.

"This was Erwin's idea, wasn't it?"

Hanji shrugged. "Doesn't matter. The fact is, you can't let a single swear pass through your lips tonight. This party is as much a publicity stunt as it is a social function, and the press here are extremely vicious. We can't have the King upset with us for being unprofessional. Plus, think of the poor girl you're marrying, won't you?" she pleaded.

"Look, shit glasses," he began, not really knowing where he was going with it, but Hanji cut him off.

"It's non-negotiable, Levi." The look she gave him was apologetic, but also satisfied. "It doesn't matter what you say to us, but as long as another person is within earshot you have to play nice. The last thing we need is for the press to launch an attack right before the negotiations are finalized."

"I hate this," Levi muttered. "To think I have to spend the next eight years watching everything I say..."

"That's a lot better than finding yourself in a position where you have to satisfy two nations at once," Hanji chided. "Besides, I didn't say you couldn't be stoic and dry, did I? Just no swearing."

Levi scowled. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "But if someone pisses me off ---"

"You reserve the right to give them a piece of your mind," Hanji finished. Then she gave him the widest, ugliest smile he'd ever seen. "Just no swearing."

"Tch," was all she got in response, but Hanji seemed undeterred. She shuffled the papers around her a little before pulling out an ivory sheet that looked like it had a list of attendees on it.

"I don't want to look at that," Levi said flatly.

" _Levi,"_ Hanji protested. "What's happened to you? The attendance sheet has the most information on it. You're always harping about that on missions."

"It pays to know how many hurdles you have on a mission," Levi retorted. "I couldn't care less about how many rich assholes are attending the engagement party."

He had deliberately avoided calling it "my" wedding party, something that won him a strange look from Hanji, but thankfully she seemed more preoccupied with the sheet in front of her.

"You know how you _have to_ invite some people to these things even if you don't want to, just to keep up appearances and diplomacy?"

"Go on."

"Weeeell," she drawled, "Given that King Grisha oversaw the wedding list, I think it's a little weird that King Reiss isn't on it."

Levi straightened in his chair. Although he hated guest lists and events planning, he wasn't an idiot. Weddings, state dinners, social functions in general, their purpose was to either create, develop, or maintain international relations. Given that King Grisha was trying to ward off Sina, not inviting King Reiss was rather a huge mistake.

"Not even an invitation?" He asked.

"I don't know anything about that, but there's not even a representative on here."

"He had to at least get an invitation," Levi reasoned, thinking it through. King Reiss had a daughter around Eren's age, Historia, if he remembered correctly. A friendship between the two girls would have been beneficial to the kingdom. If not, King Reiss' presence was expected nonetheless.

"I'm not saying its a bad omen," Hanji piped up, once they had lapsed into silence. She fiddled idly with the cap of her pen. There were ink stains on the tips of her pale fingers. "But even if he had a prior commitment, the protocol is to send someone in his place. A cousin or something, if not his daughter."

"I thought all his extended family was dead?"

Hanji winced. "Oops. I forgot. Some kind of freak illness, wasn't it?"

"Killed them all in two months," he recalled. It had been almost fifteen years ago, when Levi was still struggling on the streets. He'd heard bits and pieces of the event, gossip more than anything. Erwin would probably remember better than him, but he did recall some of the major details. "Historia was spared because ---"

"They moved her out of the palace as soon as everyone went under," Hanji nodded, the details clearly coming back to her. "It must had been depressing for her."

"She was a kid," Levi said absently, though he knew that wasn't a real answer. She had been what, six, or seven? Possibly even younger. Even if she hadn't really understood what had been happening, it wasn't easy to go from having a family of nine to a family of two. Even he had suffered moving from house to house at that age, trailing after his uncle Kenny at odd hours of the night...but at least he hadn't lost him entirely. Back then, it would have been too much for Levi to bear on his own.

"I'll let Erwin know about this," Hanji said, pulling him out of his thoughts. Levi snorted.

"He probably already knows. If he's not worried about it I don't see why we should be. He can always mention it casually to the King tonight."

Hanji hummed and put the papers away, but Levi could tell her mind was still occupied by the information. Well, he personally was thankful for it. He'd overheard enough of both King Reiss and his foreign affairs minister to dislike him. His voice sounded oily, and the king sported an extremely unruly and, frankly, disgusting mustache that made him look more like a pedohpile than a ruler. There was officially one less person for Levi to worry about offending or disappointing tonight.

And speaking of disappointments...

Unwillingly and much to his growing irritation, his mind slipped back the princess who was allegedly too impatient and rash to wait for him to arrive at the Palace tonight. Although, he admitted grudgingly, he couldn't say he wouldn't be doing the same thing if he were in her position. Which he was not. In fact, he was the farthest thing from being sold off -- he had been consulted and had had his fears listened to, assessed, and validated. The little shit waiting for him across the city couldn't say the same thing. Probably. Maybe.

To be honest, Levi didn't have the faintest idea as to what the girl was going through at the moment. Since Hanji thought it was a bad idea for him to pretend not to care, Levi was forcing himself to at least consider _some_ things from her perspective. Which is why this thoughts were stumbling into dangerous territory. He could always....

It was probably a terrible idea, he thought, looking pensively at the large window from which he was currently out of sight. Besides, why should he be giving into such a blatantly terrible (no matter what Hanji said) attempt at spying? And what was that brat's problem, anyway? _Levi_ hadn't gone over her pictures obsessively on the internet these past few days. In fact he had made sure there wasn't a newspaper in sight since the first break from Trost's press. His future wife clearly had no sense of discipline.

And yet, he thought, hadn't men done worse things than indulge childish games such as this? He found himself rising, almost resignedly, out of his chair as Hanji looked up at him. Levi was careful to stare resolutely at his destination, knowing he would never be able to look her in the eye and follow through with the plan. But when he was just steps away from the window, Hanji called out to him.

"Hey, Levi. Slick your hair back."

He took a deep breath to bite back the string of curses on the tip of his tongue, suddenly very aware that Hanji was never going to let him forget about this.

 _Friendship_ , he reminded himself. _You're trying to do the friendship thing so the little shit won't be miserable_.

Making an effort not to scowl, Levi positioned himself at the window and pretended to observe the street below them, Hanji's delighted giggling ringing horribly in his ears.


	5. The Beginning of the End Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was....so damn hard to write. I genuinely gave up a few times, but here it is. Thank you for all the lovely comments so far, and for all your support!
> 
> For everyone who started school last week, good luck with the new/continuing semester! Hopefully you're more focused than I have been, ha.

**The Waterfront, Throne Room Interior**

**8:00pm**

If Erwin was being honest with himself, he disliked social functions. He was a reserved and quiet man by nature, preferring to observe rather than interact, and the constant ebb and flow of people and pleasantries that came with his status often left him frayed at the end of an evening. Hanji could usually tell by the way his shoulders slouched ever so slightly on their car rides home. 

With Levi here, however, Erwin was more inclined to keep his facade infallible. To set an example, if you will, though he was careful to keep those thoughts to himself.

He could tell Levi was already having a difficult time of it. The man's face was pinched, the set of his shoulders too tense. Erwin couldn't exactly blame him: despite the short notice, almost the entire 300 guests had shown up, and already half of them had tried to bombard their party at the entrance, some with congratulations, others with cool and assessing gazes. Erwin could tell Levi was fighting not to glower at them, and was thankful that Hanji had bothered to convince him to wear gloves. They were less likely to have a bloodbath by morning if Levi could at least deal with the handshakes coming their way. 

"This was a shitty idea," he muttered, not for the first time. 

Erwin only hummed in response, his eyes wandering politely over the sea of faces at their sides. 

He was looking for someone, an old contact. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to get anything out of him, but King Reiss wasn't at the party, and Erwin intended to find out why. 

Then Hanji stood alert, suddenly, at his side. 

Erwin peeled his eyes away from the spectators, instead looking straight ahead to where the King had suddenly appeared, standing on the elevated platform where Maria's throne had once sat. 100 years ago the room had been transformed into a reception area, its marble columns and gold trimmings now acting as a luxurious party room. 

The din of chatter died away as people turned towards the ageing man, donned in all white and a blood red tie. Though crownless, the signet ring on his finger glittered in the light of the room. At his sides stood a young man and woman, dressed in complementary Marian red, their gazes assessing the crowd in front of them. Princess Eren was markedly absent.

Levi and Hanji shifted, coming to the realization themselves, watching the King closely. 

"Be nice," Erwin said to them both. 

The King raised his hand, and the crowd bowed.

XxXxXxX

**Four hours earlier:**

Eren had promised herself that she wouldn't think about Ackerman at the hospice. She was going there as their patron, as a Princess, not some emotional teenage girl. 

But it didn't help that the hospice was quite fixated on the news of her engagement, naturally, as she was their patron and her absence would somehow affect them. While it was easy to satisfy the adults and their work-related enquiries, the children and their idealized views of princesses and arranged marriages were another thing altogether. Eren could hardly deny a wide-eyed four year old the answer to her heartfelt and breathless question, "Are you in love, Your Royal Highness?", could she? 

It didn't help that the kid had dropped the question while the press were allowed into the building. Eren had blinked and suddenly everyone was swivelling around to get a look at her face. She was silently thankful that her back had been to the cameras, though she knew instinctively that her secret horror at the question was probably just as palpable as everyone else's.

Just when the silence had gone on a little too long, Eren had found her fix-it smile and winked conspiratorially at the child in front of her.

"Love is a very important part of a marriage," she'd heard herself say. "I'm sure I'll be very happy."

The girl broke out into an overjoyed grin, too young to understand that Eren had evaded her question, her ears warping the statement into an affirmative instead of a deflection. The same way that the majority of the adults reading the next day's tabloids would, hopefully. The girl ducked her head in glee, and Eren told her a quick goodbye as Lauren swooped in to wrap things up, the apology she couldn't voice present in her eyes. Eren smiled politely and looked away, unable to help herself. 

Nothing had technically gone wrong, she'd told herself. The moment might even be overshadowed by the speech she'd given at the beginning of her visit, informing the public that Mikasa and the King would split Eren's patronages between themselves over the years of her absence. 

Anyway, the fiasco was the least of her worries for the evening. 

As Hannes pulled into the Palace entrance and the guard came to open the door, Eren and Jean slipped out of their seats with their goodbyes. To avoid excess attention from Grisha, the four of them had decided it would be better for Sasha and Marco to go through the guest entrance as usual, as it was closer to their offices. 

Eren would have liked to start blabbering away at Jean when they entered the foyer, but as he was on duty and the Palace Guard were lining the walls, Eren was forced to keep her mouth firmly shut and let him walk behind her as they made their way to the Royal Wing. Despite growing up in the building, Eren had never truly taken a genuine liking to the structure, preferring her mother's old seaside residence to the looming building at Shiganshina's core. The rooms and the structure here were impersonal, broken up, and it didn't help that they often bounced from one castle to another depending on the season, somehow never managing to stay in one place long enough for it to feel properly homey. She wondered if Trost's base had a similar format, a wing for living and another for dining and formal meetings. Unfortunately, it seemed highly likely. 

Another set of walls for her to live in.

The thought felt wrong as soon as it popped into her mind, and Eren tried to deflect it by glancing around. While walking she had unintentionally slowed down, so much that as she realized she'd reached her bedroom and stopped altogether, Jean appeared at her elbow. 

After another second, Eren also realized that Jean rarely made the walk from the entrance to her room  _ with _ her, given the amount of security regularly posted outdoors. She peered curiously at him, the question at the tip of her tongue, when her bedroom doors suddenly burst open and made her jump half a mile in the air.

Mikasa stood in the doorway, her dark eyes sharp. 

"A warning would have been nice," Eren blurted, startled. 

Mikasa shrugged, but her mouth twitched in a way that told Eren she was trying not to laugh. A second later, though, so quickly that Eren would have missed it if she hadn't been paying attention, her expression became questioning as her eyes flitted across Eren's tan face. 

"I'm fine," Eren assured her, knowing even before Mikasa had thought to ask. She gave her sister a smile that felt not like her genuine one. "I just need a shower before the party starts." 

Mikasa's expression turned blatantly skeptical. She turned her full attention to Jean and gave him the same questioning look. Eren rolled her eyes, patting Jean on the arm as she pushed past Mikasa and deposited her shoes in the corner. He had never been able to hold out under Mikasa's scrutiny, the reason for which Eren suspected was the kick in the balls she'd dealt him in the sixth grade for accidentally punching Eren in the eye during a volleyball match. How he'd managed to hold out against her while they were dating was mostly still a mystery to her, though Eren suspected that Mikasa had lessened her distaste in the face of Eren's happiness. 

She turned around in time to catch Jean's grimace as the doors closed, and then she was finally let alone with her sister. 

Given the amount of drama over the past few days, Mikasa and Eren had only been able to squeeze in brief conversations over tea and short text messages. She had been working relentlessly to get intel for Eren and dig for as much information on Trost as humanly possible in such a short time, and Eren was proud to say that Mikasa had managed pretty well, given her rapport with the defence division. Armin had been the one doing all the in-person communications, passing on Mikasa's messages as well as his own. 

In short, Eren had really missed her, a thought that must have somehow made it onto her face, because suddenly Mikasa was closing the space between them and pulling Eren into a gentle hug.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to," she said quietly. 

Eren hummed and squeezed her tighter. They both knew it was a colossal lie. Besides it being Eren's duty to secure a political alliance, on some level Mikasa was aware that Eren would never allow her to be married off in her place. Mikasa had lost everything the night her parents had been killed, and Shiganshina was in many ways more her home that Eren's. Anyway, after a lifetime taking care of Eren, Eren herself thought it would be especially terrible to ship Mikasa off just because she didn't want to get married. 

Instead of saying all these things, Eren pulled away and gave Mikasa another smile. 

"Stop that," Mikasa deadpanned. "It's cryptic and everyone knows you don't mean it."

"Hey! The press think it’s great."

"The press are idiots," Mikasa countered. She perched herself on Eren's bench. Eren wiggled out of her turtleneck and draped it over her chair before grabbing a robe and studying the careful expression Mikasa was wearing. She clearly had something to say, but most likely didn't want to cause Eren any more worry than she already had. 

As she sat near her on the bed, though, Eren considered asking her to just come out with it. She half hated the suspense, but then she thought about how little time they had left together, and wondered if bad news couldn't wait. 

Mikasa seemed to have the same thought, because she suddenly cleared her throat and looked away. "I hear everyone's been giving you engagement presents," she said instead, seeming to find a spot on Eren's wall especially interesting. 

Eren watched her curiously for a second before shrugging, though not without a happy smile. 

"Papa gave me some nice jewelry, and the hospice was kind enough to give me a photo album of all the important moments they've had with the monarchy throughout the years. Mom's in there. And you saw what the Kirstcheins gave me."

Mikasa nodded. At the mention of the hospice, her eyes had found Eren's and her expression softened. "Listen, I know you said not to get you anything ---"

"Oh you didn’t ---"

"---But something caught my eye. Well, two things, actually." 

Eren opened her mouth to protest further, but Mikasa cut her off by squeezing her hand. "I want you to open the smaller one first." She nodded to Eren's desk, where, now that Eren bothered to look closely, she could see a gift bag shoved behind the wooden structure. "And I have to explain the second one. It's got something to do with what I have to tell you."

"You really shouldn't have bothered," Eren murmured, a little half heartedly, as she got up to bring the bag to the bed again. "Unless it was some donation --"

Mikasa shook her head. "I wanted to give you something to remember me by."

Eren stopped inches from her spot and frowned, the light happiness she'd felt dissipating. "Where did that come from?" she asked, more in surprise than anything else. Mikasa only gave her a small smile in reply, but it looked odd, almost the way Eren knew her smile would have looked like earlier. 

"I know you won't truly forget me," she said. "Still, it'll be...odd, for me at least, since we've always been together. I just..." she trailed off, looking away again as Eren reached the bedside. 

Eren looked at Mikasa then ---  _ really _ looked at her. She had never stopped to consider just how lost Mikasa must be feeling amidst this whole mess, having been too caught up in fights with her father and her future situation to think that her sister was feeling just as upset as she was. A rush of familiar guilt rolled over her. Eren had Sasha and both the boys with her, but Mikasa only had Armin. The perfect balance of their triage would be broken for the first time since it had formed, and Mikasa was famously against adjusting to a new personal dynamic, though she was incredible in combat formations. She was losing family just like Eren was, with little to gain from it. 

Tentatively, Eren curled Mikasa's fingers into her own. 

"I'm sorry," she said softly, searching for the right words. Mikasa's hand was small and slender compared to Eren's own, but she knew they were capable of immense strength, not unlike the girl seated in front of her. "I know --- I know this is hard. Even if we all knew it was coming...we've never been forced apart like this before, have we?"

Mikasa's muted expression abruptly darkened. "He had no right to drop it like this," she said icily. Eren knew immediately that she was talking about her father. A few days ago, Eren would gladly have nodded and added her own vitriolic opinion on the affair, but as the days had barrelled closer and closer to her departure, she found that resignation was the feeling that trumped all others, despite the lingering anger and the strong determination to avoid letting anyone push her around. So she still surprised herself a little when she told Mikasa to let it go.

"I mean," she added hastily, when Mikasa only blinked at her, "I'm furious with him too, Mika. But all I can really do is make the best of it, right? It's my duty to serve this kingdom, and I've always known I would end up in a situation like this. There's nothing left to do but follow through and make as much noise as I can until I'm taken out."

"You don't really mean that," Mikasa protested. Eren felt a flash of deja-vu as her sister's expression slackened. 

"Jean looked at me the same way when I accepted," she said wryly. "I know I don't usually carry through with shit that I hate, but in this case my hands are tied. We can only look at the good that'll come out of this mess, like the experience you'll get when you work with my patronages and all the stuff I'll be able to do in Trost ---"

"We can still stop this," Mikasa interrupted, her voice harsh against Eren's soothing tone. Suddenly she gripped Eren's hand, changing Eren's hold into her own. 

"Mikasa ---"

"Just say no to him at the altar," she said fiercely. Eren started, her mouth falling open. "I'll handle the rest. Our defense is considerable and King Erwin needs our help so badly that he won't risk cutting us of economically, and of course he wouldn't dare force us into a war, because of Sina. You father can't risk disinheriting you, so you won't even lose the throne. Jean and Marco and I will take you to the sea until the scandal dies. We'll handle everything from there, the meetings, the patronages, and you'll be safe ---"

"Mikasa," Eren repeated gently, but Mikasa's eyes had turned steely.

"---And when the time comes for you to get married, you can choose someone you want. If its humanitarian work you want to do, then we can organize relief programs from here ---"

"---Mikasa ---"

"---Or you can try doing annual visits to Trost. Better yet, if you reject Ackerman here and now, you can force King Erwin to back off enough for you to demand a one-year delay for the wedding, he won't say no. Armin and I both think that they would rather delay the marriage instead of not having one at all, and besides, it would give Parliament something to clamour over, you know they've been divided for ---"

"Mikasa!" Eren yelled.

Mikasa stopped abruptly, not expecting the tone. She opened her mouth again, but Eren leaned forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, at once amused and extremely touched. 

"Do you remember when my mom died?" Eren asked suddenly. Mikasa flinched in surprise, expression almost closing off.

"Of course I do," she said cautiously. 

Eren sighed. "Remember how you had to hold me down when my dad came to talk to me after? You were so collected. You accepted it and you held on to me until I accepted it too. That's what this is, get it? I've accepted it. I want you to accept it too, because even if I delay the wedding, I'd still be getting married. And I don't want to hide away by the sea or risk the alliance between us and Trost."

Mikasa latched onto Eren's arms, clearly distressed, but Eren only knew that because she was so familiar with her sister. 

"But you're unhappy," Mikasa said, as if it was that simple.

Then again, Eren thought, it probably was as simple as that for her. Even though Mikasa had said her oaths about serving the people, she was only really concerned with Eren's wellbeing. Armin had once told her that it was probably why her father had never changed her title from 'ward' to 'daughter'. Officially adopting Mikasa would make her a legitimate contender for the throne, and all four of them knew she would never be fit for it, because her allegiance would always be to Eren, not to Maria. 

"I might be happy one day."

Mikasa opened her mouth one more time, but Eren's tone turned pleading. " _ Please _ Mikasa. It's not ideal, I get it. It's medieval and unfair. But if it'll really help the Marians then I won't back down."

There was a note of finality in her voice that Eren knew didn't go unnoticed. Mikasa's dark eyes hardened for a second. Her jaw started working, a muscle Eren had never seen appearing thumping near her forehead. She wanted to add something more to reassure her, but Eren had never been good at spinning lies to comfort other people. Mikasa and her had that in common, at least. 

Finally, Mikasa let out a defeated sigh. She was still clearly unhappy by the way she pursed her lips, but she seemed to instinctively know that pressing the matter would hurt Eren more than anything.

"Well, you'd better get to the presents," she said, her tone once again soft and flat at the same time. "The second one will help you in Trost."

The transition was jarring, and Eren had to remind herself of the gift bag resting beside her.

For a second, she hesitated. Mikasa might always appear collected and controlled on the outside, but Eren knew she only kept that charade because she felt everything too deeply. But nodding and taking the gift was the only way to move on, so she reached for the first package and ran her fingers along it. It felt like clothing, going by the squishiness, and Eren wasn't surprised when the wrapping paper eventually gave way to a familiar red fabric.

Neither girl spoke for several seconds. Eren's throat felt tight as she ran her fingers over the material, bringing it close to her nose to inhale the fresh scent, remembering the first time she'd wrapped an identical scarf around Mikasa's neck when they'd first met. How long ago had it been? Fifteen, sixteen years? A torrent of memories flooded through her: the first time (and perhaps the only time) Mikasa had cried, her first nightmare, the first time she'd crept into Eren's bed, the first party they'd attended as sisters, her first riding lessons, her first boyfriend, heartbreak, job, graduation --- everything they had done together. Always together despite everything that sought to keep them apart. 

It wasn't until Mikasa touched her cheek that Eren realized she was crying. 

"Not good," Mikasa said sadly, swiping gently at Eren's face. There was a lingering look of regret in her eyes, from their discussion or because of the situation they were in, Eren didn't know. She could also see clearly the slight downwards tug at the corner of Mikasa's own mouth, the only sign of distress she seemed to give off these days. "You'll make your eyes too puffy for the makeup."

A small laugh was all Eren could manage in response. "Where did you find this?"

Mikasa's expression turned fond as she considered the scarf. "Sasha made it for me. I tried almost every store in the city, but I couldn't find a match."

"It's perfect for the winter. We should wear them when we're together again."

Mikasa didn't quite smile, but there was a brightness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. 

"Try the second one," she prompted, pulling out a more solid gift from the bag. "It'll need some explaining, but you have to promise me you'll consider it."

Eren raised a brow, taking the gift dubiously into her own hands. Mikasa wasn't as outrageous as the other part of her friend group. From Sasha, Eren might expect raunchy lingerie (and if she was being honest, she'd probably be receiving some sometime soon), and Jean would probably have gotten her a box of condoms as a well meaning gag if he wasn't so aware of the fact that Eren was dreading the physical part of this marriage more than the rest of it. Mikasa, on the other hand, was a little less predictable. If anything she would have gotten her some sort of device to clamp down on Ackerman's nether regions.

Then Eren remembered the look Mikasa had worn earlier. She'd wanted to tell her something, but had held back. 

Carefully, Eren found the taped corners and began unravelling the gift wrap, running over some possibilities in her mind. None of them came close to the package that she found situated in her lap. 

"Okay," Eren said, managing to keep her calm. Mikasa was watching her intently. "Explain." 

"There's two reasons," Mikasa began immediately, not missing the wary glance Eren shot the object. "About two years ago, when Sina was becoming a real threat to this kingdom, the defence division began secretly investigating the Royal Family and Sina's defensive measures."

"Because we're afraid of a war, economic or physical," Eren supplied. 

"Yes. But we didn't find much. If there is a defense measure being planned or currently in place, it's still a mystery to us. The only thing we did find was that there was talk among the military officials about an extremely out-of-date program that your father and King Reiss collaborated on years ago."

"Wait,  _ what _ ?" Eren started, thinking back furiously over the years. "You're telling me Papa worked with King Reiss back in the day? When was this? I thought they hated each other."

Mikasa shrugged, but Eren saw the disquiet in her expression. "I don't think that part's a lie. This would have happened before either of us were born, anyway, so there'd be plenty of time for a falling out."

"And this program? What was it called?" 

Mikasa made a face . "Project Titan." 

Eren's brows drew together in confusion. "Like from the story of Ymir? That's kind of lame."

"It sounds tacky, I know," her sister agreed. "I also don't really know what it was, but based on the timing of it, it might have been a research initiative. Medical, probably. Your dad has always been interested in that."

"Hm," Eren said, distracted by a different implication that her sentence had brought. "What do you mean, 'I'?"

Not surprisingly, Mikasa didn't waste time with any preamble. "I may have been looking into this by myself."

"Snooping, you mean," Eren said pointedly, though her mouth began curving. "Does Pixis know about this?"

"Of course not. He's very convinced that the two are unrelated."

"So what's up with you? What's this got to do with this  _ thing _ in my lap?"

"It's a gun, Eren," Mikasa said flatly. "I want you to carry it, just in case."

"Well  _ I  _ don't want to carry it," Eren retorted, placing the package gingerly on her bed. "There's a reason I haven't gotten one for myself for so long." 

Mikasa stared determinedly at her, trying to find the right words to get her to agree. Eren scowled. 

When they had turned 16, Grisha had been adamant on them joining Jean at the defence academy to train in basic defence skills. Since they had been two years away from the age of enlistment, they had been strictly confined to the volunteer corps, mostly preliminary training and theory. Eren had hated the latter, but both she and Mikasa had uncovered a genuine liking and talent for hand-to-hand combat, so much so that they had been encouraged to continue on even after their volunteer period had ended. They were forbidden from active work, but Grisha had agreed there was no harm in innocent defence. Only, Dot Pixis, probably the best commander Maria had ever seen, had personally overseen their training, meaning their time at the academy had been anything but innocent. By the time she'd graduated high school both she and Mikasa could've easily come out top of the class in the military's training programme. It was where she had learned to shoot. 

_ At least I'm not in danger of  _ accidentally _ killing someone _ , Eren thought, frowning at the Glock lying on her bed. Then she recalled what Mikasa had told her.

"What's this got to do with Project Titan?" She asked. "And what's the second reason?"

Mikasa clasped her hands on the bed. A sign that she was about to make the best out of something pretty far fetched.

"About Titan, I don't know yet," she admitted, ignoring Eren's frown. "Pixis might be right in it being nothing, but we've been looking for two years and that's the only name coming up. If there's animosity between us and them, Sina might make moves in Trost, and that means they'll move against you. Tensions between Sina and Maria are reaching its peak." Her fingers rubbed idly at the skin of the back of her left hand. Agitated.

Eren sat in silence for a second, thinking it through. She agreed about the rush and the tensions, and yeah, it had always been clear that things between Sina and Maria were getting bad. Hence the stupid wedding. 

"I still don't see why I need a gun."

"For  _ protection _ ," Mikasa said fiercely. "In case something happens. In case you're on your own. I won't be there —"

"I don't need you to fight every battle for me," Eren snapped. 

Mikasa only pursed her lips. Eren stared hard for a moment, scowling again, before flopping petulantly onto the bed. 

Mikasa's grateful squeeze on her wrist almost stopped the circulation in her arm. 

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Eren only grunted in response, shrugging her off.

XxXxXxXxX

**The Waterfront, Throne Room Interior**

**9:00pm**

Levi was bored. 

He had tried not be, really. He'd even stuck closer to Hanji's side than usual, surprisingly tolerant as she introduced him to people whose names he couldn't care to remember. The amount of drinks he’d downed might also have played a factor. He'd also said very little to King Grisha when they'd joined him on the platform, but that was mostly because of the brats posted at his sides. 

Armin Arlert and Lady Mikasa Ackerman. He was more familiar with girl, having once been curious to know if they had any familial ties because of their shared last name. She'd looked at him like she was considering ripping him in half and eating his entrails, which was interesting, to say the least.

Erwin had disappeared after their talk like the asshole he was. Levi currently sat alone at the bar, tired of Hanji, and feeling like there were invisible eyes on his back again. In short, it was not going well.

"I need a fucking drink," he grumbled. 

The bartender, a roughly twenty-five-year-old man who would have been attractive if he didn't look like he was about to shit his pants every time Levi looked at him, snapped his head up nervously. 

"W-what would you like, Sir?" 

_ What a damn pussy _ , Levi thought. Half his fucking face was covered by his bullshit mask and the brat was still quaking in his boots. 

But before he could bite out a scathing reply, a voice sounded from behind him. 

"Two whiskies," it said. "Neat."

Levi paused, not immediately placing the voice, but recognizing it as female. Given the lack of resignation that flooded through his body, he knew it wasn't Hanji.

Levi considered telling the voice to fuck off. 

This could easily escalate into a terrible situation; he knew how it would look. Levi, male, about to be married, alone at a bar with a woman, young, judging by the sound of her voice, possibly attractive, seeing how the bartender's eyes were in danger of falling out of their sockets. But that would mean having Hanji lecture for the next six months.

"I hate parties.” 

Light disappeared in his peripheral as the woman shifted to sit beside him. Levi very deliberately didn't look at her, choosing instead to glower at the bartender, who popped his eyes back into his head with a weak apology and made himself busy with the drinks. 

"I hope you like whiskey," the woman said, seeming unconcerned with his comment, but very clearly worrying over whether she had chosen the right drink. Levi wasn't going to say anything, but then, almost to herself, she mumbled, "Old men like whiskey, right?"

In front of them, the bartender stumbled on his feet, looking up in alarm. Levi's neck swivelled to face the woman, mouth opening to ask if she'd really just said what he thought she'd said, but he glanced in front of him and found that whatever he had to say had vanished on his tongue. 

Looking back on it, the first thing he'd probably noticed was the woman's mask. It was a deep turquoise colour, with flecks of green and gold, and obviously imitating a butterfly. Half of her face, the side that Levi was looking at, was covered by an ornate wing, stretching down to her jaw, a single golden-and-green earring decorating the one ear within his line of sight. But the thing that had frozen him were her eyes. 

She'd been looking absently in front of herself when he had first turned, but feeling the intensity of his gaze on her, she'd turned in surprise. Impossible combinations of green and blue stared at him, so close that he could see flecks of bright grey and other strange colours that gave the illusion of light hitting the sea. To his displeasure, he found that he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. 

She was staring at him. Her gaze was slightly unfocused, though, as she took him in, eyes flickering all over his face in a way that reminded him, for a split second, of Hanji.

Then, all of a sudden, before Levi could really entertain the idea of speech, the parts of her face that weren't covered by the mask flushed a brilliant red. 

"I said that out loud," she whispered, green eyes widening in horror. 

"No shit," Levi bit out, his voice more hoarse than usual.  _ Fuck _ . What the fuck had gotten into him? 

"I don't —I didn't mean —- I mean —- you're not old!" she squeaked, her eyes still round as fucking saucers. "I —- thirty is a great age, it's good, you know, not middle aged — I just meant, whiskey, not a lot of people drink that when they're yo —- twenty, you know, because it's too strong and people drink a lot of fruity shit at that age because alcohol is kind of gross until you have enough life experience to handle stuff that's a little bit up there in terms of—-"

"Oi, brat," he interrupted, sharply, harsher than he meant, reeling in his traitor heart beat while she bristled at the term. "Stop before you talk yourself to death."

Green eyes filled will indignation. "Who—-"

"—-Do I think I am?" Levi finished, raising a brow coldly. Something was still wrong with his chest, and he was trying hard to blame it on the alcohol. "Someone you just insulted and are currently bothering. Who do you think  _ you _ are?" 

From somewhere behind the counter, the bartender let out a noise halfway between a gasp and a whimper. 

The woman's eyes narrowed, surprise among other emotions clamouring in her expression. Levi wished he could see the rest of her face. From what he  _ could _ see, she was tan, and her hair was either brown or black, he couldn't tell with the dim lighting. Long white gloves stretched over her elbows, leaving barely anything of her arm available to they eye, but the expanse of skin left uncovered was tight, muscular. Levi felt interest spike in him despite himself. Was she a guard? He knew some of them were currently mingling with the guests, since quite a few were part of high society. But she didn't hold herself up straight like she had a stick up her ass, and there was a softness to her that didn't fit the job. Her neck was a little long, slender, and her chin was certainly up, but not in a way that implied she was looking down at him. He could see the bob of her heartbeat against the base of her throat, and stopped his eyes from following the neckline of her green dress.

Something in her demeanour shifted. 

“Sorry,” she said, surprising him. Levi could tell she meant it genuinely, too, by the sheepishness in her voice. “Sometimes...I have a habit of talking out loud. I’ll watch it.”

“You’re honest, at least,” he muttered, now surprising himself. “What’s a kid like you doing here anyway?”

She rose to the bait perfectly, bristling again but trying to hide it. Her next words took him by surprise, though. “You shouldn’t talk like that. It makes you seem older than you are.”

_ This little shit _ … “When there’s about twenty years between myself and---”

“I’m twenty-one!” She cried in outrage. Levi took a sip of his drink, perhaps not the best course of action, but he needed something to hide the upwards turn of his mouth. He did raise his brow at her, as if to say,  _ though shit _ ,  _ kid.  _

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Princess Eren is the same age.”

Levi put his drink down, the reminder unleashing a dull ache in the back of his head. 

“You look like someone pissed in your whiskey,” the girl noted, a hint of interest entering her voice. “Not too excited to get married?”   


Levi glared. “What are you, a reporter?”

“No.” She said it with such sincerity that Levi actually believed her. Then she hesitated. “I’m...I grew up with her. She’s not happy about getting married either, if that helps?”

Levi didn’t say anything in response, but that didn’t seem to deter her. He watched her take a sip of her own whiskey, not even remotely surprised when she grimaced at the taste. A small shudder ran through her, goosebumps appearing on her arms. 

She was good-looking, Levi could tell that much. Even if her eyes turned out to be the only remarkable part of her face, she had a nice nose and soft skin, and muscles moved on the panes of her back. She probably had a nice ass, too, judging by the outline of her leg he could see from her dress. If Levi was younger, if he wasn’t engaged ----

“She’s stubborn, you know,” The woman was saying. Levi only blinked, an odd sense of guilt oozing into him as he let her cut off the thought. “And headstrong. And she likes dancing. Hates snoring, boorishness, and signing things. And…” --- here, she faltered --- “Guns.”

He stayed silent, though he couldn’t stop the twitch in his eyebrow at the last addition. 

“Did she send you here to chew me out or something?” 

Levi kept his eyes trained on her face, watching for the reaction that would give her away. But instead of looking away or taking a nervous sip of her drink, she laughed and shook her head. 

“No, she didn’t send me,” she chuckled. “I just happened to find you here.”

“Hm,” he grunted, watching as she adjusted the straps of her dress. Now that Levi was calmer, he could see that it looked like some sort of night dress, at least in terms of shape and fit. Silk seemed to be the texture, and green lace hemmed the neckline. It looked... _good._ Tight, in the right places, hiding what needed to be hidden at a party like this, but teasing the eye. His eyes roamed despite himself, not stopping where he'd stopped them earlier. If Levi wasn’t mistaken, ---

She looked up suddenly, catching him staring. He held his ground, expecting embarrassment, or a scathing remark. What he got was an amused smile, her green eyes roaming ]over his _own_ body, darkening.

Levi leaned away, mental alarms ringing. 

“Sir, can I ask you something?”

_ Dangerous _ . This was getting dangerous. 

“I think it’s time you found someone your own age to pester.”

“Have you ever felt,” she began, and Levi shifted to get out of his chair, “ _ Wrong _ , when you’re in the battlefield? Doesn’t it weigh on you, taking all those lives?”

Levi stopped, whatever arousal and intrigue he'd felt seconds ago violently shattered by shock. What direction he’d thought this conversation would go in, he didn’t know, but it certainly hadn‘t been  _ this _ . Who the fuck asked that sort of question at a party? 

The woman was serious, though. It was like she’d stopped every movement in her body. She’d even leaned in a little, not in a pushy way, but enough to tell him that she really did want an answer, and that she was going to listen to what he said. It only took a second for surprise to fade rapidly into caution. Just because she wasn’t a reporter --- which Levi could now see was a stupid thought to begin with, since the guestlist had been carefully controlled and regulated --- it didn’t mean she hadn’t been bought by one. Apprehension must have made itself apparent somehow, because the woman continued, now leaning back a little.

“My sister wants to join the army,” she said softly, not meeting Levi’s eyes. Gloved fingers rubbed idly at the skin of her opposite hand. Levi watched carefully. “Sorry if it’s an invasive question. I keep trying to tell her it’s a bad idea. She’s not a violent person by nature, and the thought of her...anyway, doesn’t it take a toll on you?”

“It is.”

Green eyes swam with confusion. “Sir?”

“The question,” Levi clarified, unkindly. “It  _ is  _ invasive.” 

Levi thought she might drop it, but even after the disappointed expression crawled into her eyes, determination was swift to follow. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “But I need to know. In case she’s making a mistake.”

“And there wasn’t anyone else you could ask?”

“You’re humanity’s strongest soldier,” she said, confused, as if that alone meant Levi had all the answers. “You’re the most lethal weapon on the continent. You’re the only one I can ask.”

God save him from the naivety of youth.

“Listen, kid,” he began, letting his irritation bleed into his eyes, “Even if I cared enough to answer you question, I --”

“It’s not like you’ll ever see me again,” she interjected roughly, her eyes now finding his with a fire that took him off guard. “I’m just a face at a party. I’m just a kid looking out for her sister, alright? I want to know how you can take a life and keep going. And I want to know how  _ you  _ think it’s okay to administer death sentences to criminals, why you’d even want to hold that power in your hands, why you’re good when you fight. I want to know. I want you to tell me.”

Demanding, that was what she was. Levi glanced around, trying to find Erwin or Hanji or one of King Grisha’s brats to get him out of this mess. He didn’t come here to be interrogated by some girl with morals. He didn’t come here to be reminded that he didn’t want a wife, or a princess, or a title, or his  _ stupid  _ reputation ---

“Don’t you think,” the little shit was continuing, “That putting them through the court process, of keeping innocent people out of the line of fire ---”

“Fuck off,” Levi said harshly. The bartender’s mouth fell open, and Levi had to force himself not to start a fist fight right then and there. He was controlled enough to keep his breathing even, and trusted his defenses to keep any real emotion from his face, but a combination of countless drinks and his very shitty, unfortunate situation made it harder for him to care about Hanji’s instructions. 

But instead of the cold or affronted look he was expecting from the asshole in front of him, Levi found earnestness in her expression. Nothing he thought would come out of her was  _ coming out of her _ . It made him angrier.

“If your sister wants to get herself blown up, that’s her choice,” he said brusquely, ignoring the flinch that wracked through her entire body, enjoying it, even. “People don’t join the military for shits and giggles. It’s rough, it’s hard, you do things that look unspeakable to other people because you want to survive. Criminals are criminals, and believe me, kid, if you saw even half the shit a regular officer saw in their lifetime, you wouldn’t be opposed to sticking a few knives in a select few backs.”

“But it’s the same as ---”

“--- A death sentence,” he finished, making sure his voice was detached and impersonal. Yeah, he knew. The first time he’d put a knife in someone’s stomach, he’d known he was an executioner, even if it had been necessary, even if it had felt wrong. “Some people need to stay down. You’re naive as fuck if you can’t see that. It’s why people go to war. It’s why people have to fight tooth and nail, because if you’re not fighting for your life, someone is going to take it. If your sister was about to die, wouldn’t you kill the person firing, if you could?”

“That’s different,” she insisted. She was scowling now, the wheels in her brain turning, Levi could practically  _ see  _ it happen, could almost hear the contents of her brain rearranging itself. Her face, even though half of it was  _ covered,  _ was so damn expressive. “I’m protecting someone I love. I’m not --- it’s not cold blood.”

“You think a real soldier kills out of cold blood?” Levi snapped. “What kind of fucking military do you have here?”

Her mouth fell open. “You do it because you  _ love Trost _ ?”

“I do it because if I don’t, innocent people die. Someone with a head your size should have put that together by now.” 

_ That _ shut her up. Levi could see her deciding between whether or not she wanted to be offended or pursue the argument. Thankfully, she seemed to choose the latter, looking away, and taking another sip of her drink.

“You’re not really what I expected,” she said abruptly, the anger seeming to have left her. Levi rolled his eyes. 

“Thanks for answering, though,” she said quietly.

He didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure if he should have said what he’d said. It had been half out of anger and half out of impatience; apparently that was a bad combination in him, unless he was on the training ground. Petra would have been better for this. Gunther, better yet. Both of them had a knack for speaking in half truths and diplomacy. Levi was blunt, crass, and generally didn’t give a shit about hurting someone else’s feelings. 

He stole a quick glance at the woman. She seemed unperturbed, but was staring at the rotating contents of her whiskey. Well, if her sister was about to join the military, Levi couldn’t blame her for being worried. Maria was more likely to face some sort of assault from Sina than Trost was, even if confrontation was still at least a year away. 

Which is why he was here, sitting at this ridiculous bar, half-heartedly telling himself he had absolutely no lewd intentions towards the figure sitting beside him. He’d come to take the pretty princess away and teach her how she was supposed to keep an entire, vicious, ruthless kingdom out of her home. 

“Sir?” 

This time, Levi gave her the full force of his glower, satisfied when she shrank back. “You’re pushing it.”

“It’s not about the military this time,” she hastened, despite the hesitation in her voice. “Do you dance?”

Levi contemplated closing his eyes. The kid was giving him whiplash. One second she was harmless and overeager, the next she was asking him philosophical bullshit about life and death.  _ Now  _ she was asking if he liked dancing, after he’d chewed her out. A quick scan of the room told him Hanji was still nowhere to be found, and he took a long swig of his whiskey. He’d already been pushing his luck by sitting here this long, and he wouldn’t even have done  _ that _ if the brat’s eyes hadn’t distracted him. 

“No,” he said curtly, not caring that almost a whole minute had gone by since she’d asked the question. 

“Oh.” The disappointment in her voice was palpable. Did this kid have no tact whatsoever? Wasn’t she the princess’s friend? “At all?”

“At all,” he echoed, turning his body away from her then, looking at the rows of bottles ahead. The bartender had moved himself down the counter and had managed to pull himself together somehow. The woman as attractive, Levi granted, but that was hardly a reason to lose his shit altogether. Unless she happened to be someone really important that Levi had been disrespecting the entire time. 

Levi stilled as the thought entered his mind, reviewing the bartender’s reactions. The gasping, the tripping, the shock of seeing her in the first place. 

_ Great. This  _ was why Levi didn’t attend social events. He’d probably been chewing out the daughter of some important official, with his luck. He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye, bad mood intensifying.

“What was your name again?” 

The woman looked startled, eyes widening. Levi fought not to groan. That was the look of someone eager to keep their name out of the gossip channels; he knew it so well, from watching the assfuck politicians back home. 

“That’s really not—” she started, at the same time glass shattered from the other end of the room. Someone yelled from far away, a surprised muttering breaking among the crowd. 

Both Levi and the woman glanced over in surprise, Levi reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. Maybe it was nothing, but during his street rat days, breaking bottles was as good a distraction as any. His eyes roamed the room, half waiting for a scream or an unnatural movement, but it happened closer than he was expecting. It was this: a flash of brown and gold on his left, and the green-eyed woman letting out a noise of surprise. 

He jerked towards her, but she had a loose grip on the figure beside her, demeanor relaxed. It was another woman around the same age, he thought --- these masks were really getting in the fucking way --- dressed in gold and heels that looked like bulldozers. 

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” she said. Despite the smile on her face, Levi could see the tension in her shoulders, and was instantly wary. “Her parents are leaving and sent me to get her.” 

He moved his eyes over to the green-eyed girl, who also smiled and stood. “Thanks for the conversation,” she said good-naturedly, then glanced over his shoulder. “Your best man is on the way.”

Levi glanced over his shoulder for Erwin and immediately realized his mistake. He whipped around again, but in the space of three seconds, both women had disappeared into the crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe not the first meeting everyone was expecting, but after going through roughly six different scenarios in my head, I felt this one best reflected the vibe of the story. Besides, there'll be plenty of other opportunities to explore Levi's sexual frustration.


	6. The People's Princess Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this is a little shorter than the other chapters, but the next one is half way done! Thank you all again for your support and lovely comments!

Armin stood near Eren's window, watching the scene unfolding in front of him with resigned amusement.

"But do you _agree_?" Eren was asking, arms raised above her head. Sasha was trying to pry her out of the too-tight sweater she'd been wondering whether or not to pack.

The question was aimed at Mikasa, who sat quietly for a few seconds across from her. Armin couldn't tell if she was contemplating the answer or waiting for Eren's head to emerge from inside the woolen fabric.

He decided to answer instead, meeting Mikasa's eyes when they flickered to him. "I knew he wasn't a cold-blooded killer. He passed his psych evaluation too."

"Can't do that if you're nuts," Sasha supplied helpfully.

Eren huffed from inside the sweater, probably because she knew her eye-roll would go unseen. "'Kasa?"

Mikasa sighed, looking away from Armin and back to Eren's covered head. "It doesn't matter to me. If he hurts you, I'll kill him."

Armin's mouth turned downwards, unseen by his friends. Maybe it was too late in the day for philosophical conversations about the morals of murder.

It was almost midnight on Thursday, and the day had been spent shoving clothes into suitcases and signing on last minute changes to the wedding ceremony about to happen tomorrow. Eren had spent the majority of the morning trying not to think about it, Armin could tell; she'd even gone as far as to help Sasha and Jean pack their belongings and do research on the officials she would likely be meeting with in Trost. Nothing was set to happen until a week after her arrival, which Eren had reluctantly agreed to on Armin's suggestion --- he'd made a rather good point about how it was important for her to get to know the people at the base before running around the country.

"Too bad you only got to talk to him for like, forty minutes," Sasha remarked, giving a brutal tug that finally released Eren's head. "The plan was working so well."

"I guess it was too much to ask for the Millers not to notice you," Armin sighed, thinking back to the over-eager couple he'd tried to entertain for most of last night. "But Sasha's right; it worked pretty well. You were really lucky to get Ackerman on his own."

"All I learned is that he loves his country," Eren complained, wincing as she rubbed the pain out of her ears. "We could have figured that out on our own."

"That's not all we learned," Sasha said mildly. "Did you see the way he was looking at you? Definitely kinky."

Eren kicked her in the shin, but not without blushing. Armin shifted a little near the window. Eren was far too independent and chaotic to permit either himself or Mikasa to protest against unwanted eyes (Mikasa to a lesser extent, given how persistent she was), but it still felt weird to talk about Eren's sex life --- at least in relation to anyone who wasn't Jean. He'd suffered through too many traumatizing phone calls and in-person complaining sessions to be affected by anything that had happened between him and his sister (and there had been _a lot_ that had happened) any longer. Ackerman, a complete stranger and almost a decade older, was a different question. Not that his roaming eyes had really been a surprise _;_ the three of them knew that Eren wasn't lacking in the looks department. What had been more interesting was that he'd kept stopping himself despite his interest. According to Eren, that is; Armin was too far away and too occupied to keep his eyes on the two of them in the short amount of time they were together, though Sasha had filled him in the best she could.

"He showed some interest," Mikasa pitched in, though reluctantly. Her small mouth was obviously trying not to scowl. "I think he's gross."

"You're a little biased," Armin told her, but he was smiling. "Anyway, Eren, do you feel better?"

She shrugged, sneaking a quick glance at her sister before answering, something that didn't go unnoticed by Armin. "I got some answers, yeah. Knowing his motive makes me less apprehensive about the whole thing, and I know I can't be too picky about murder anyway. He's a soldier, I can't change that."

He nodded, a little relieved with her conclusion, but still aware that Mikasa had been factored into the response. As much as he loved her, Eren could be pretty stubborn at times. Usually it worked out in her favour, but there had been some close calls throughout the years, and Armin couldn't help but feel that this was one of them. Levi Ackerman, on the whole, had the potential to be good for Eren. He wasn't Armin's first choice, obviously, but Eren could have ended up with worse. Though ruthless, there was a moral pattern to Ackerman's fieldwork. Almost no collateral damage, precise kills, little torture. Then there was the fact that all of Trost loved him.

"I'll see more of him tomorrow," Eren said. "For the signing."

"Actually, you won't," Armin piped up. Anticipating the sharp look he got in response, he raised his hands in surrender. "It's not because you're forbidden. King Erwin spoke with your dad last night, closer to the end of the evening, and I heard them talking about the contract. Apparently he wanted to request an eight-year period for the main goals of the marriage. Your dad seemed surprised, but agreed on the terms that they would accept the stuff you brought up during your meeting."

Eren's shoulders relaxed fractionally. "All of it?"

"From what I could tell, yeah. Everything's still being officially altered, but the document should be ready by the time you two sign the marriage papers tomorrow, which means you can skim over a copy in the morning."

Eren pondered this for a moment, tracking Sasha's movements as she fished out some files from the bedside table. "I won't have time to change anything if I don't like it."

"Leave that to me," Mikasa said, instantly picking up on Eren's mood. "Pixis is receiving the papers before breakfast to sign on the military agreements, so I'll sneak a look then. You know he secretly has a soft spot for you."

"Bullshit; you were always his favourite," Eren said, but shot her a grateful look. Armin could still tell that she was upset at not being previously informed, but she bore it well, better than she would have three years ago.

He was grateful that they had gotten this time together, even if it had been short, even if he was going to miss her. He could only hope he wasn't terribly mistaken about Ackerman, and that he hadn't overestimated King Erwin's dependence on the alliance. He could forgive himself if Eren had a rocky start, or if her relationship took time to develop --- he could even forgive himself if she ended up hating Ackerman. But he would never be able to overcome the complete devastation he'd feel if she got her heart broken. If Ackerman hurt her.

One look at Mikasa's sad eyes told him she felt the same way. 

XxXxXxXxX

It was one in the morning when they finally left. Almost everything had been packed away, selected with care by the four of them. Mikasa's steps were unusually solemn at his side. Just before they parted at the end of the hallway, she snagged Armin's elbow.

Armin had first met Mikasa and Eren on the playground in primary school. He had been short and chubby in his toddler days --- shorter and chubbier than the other children --- his hair fashioned into the unforgiving bowl-cut he'd grown to like over the years, clutching at a book because he was afraid of making friends. The bigger boys had found him easy prey, and Armin, though smart, was too cowed and shy to approach the young princess, despite the blanket of immunity he knew her friendship would bring. Though the bigger boys were rough and mean, they weren't stupid enough to pick on royalty, especially not royalty of the female kind.

He had been bracing himself for the first punch when his bully had suddenly gone flying into the brick wall beside him. Instead of stammering out a thank you to Mikasa, Armin had taken one look at her and burst into tears.

In his defence, she had been stoic even back then, vicious, oddly confident despite her age and her situation. Eren had been the one to calm him down, sitting with him in the dirt as the bully hurried away to hide his own tears and bleeding cheek. She'd squeezed his tiny fingers and picked up his book --- which he'd protested at, because it wasn't like the books the popular kids carried around, with lots of fancy pictures of made up animals and fairies --- but Eren had propped it open to a description of the lily of the valley, and her whole face had lit up like the sun.

 _Look, Mikasa, he likes flowers too!_ And from there explained to him that they _had_ to be friends, _because I picked too many flowers and Mikasa and I don't have enough hair for them!_

No one dared comment on the flower crown he'd worn on his head at the end of recess, the combination of Eren's grip on his hand and Mikasa's death glare eradicating any taunts that might have come his way.

But standing in front of him now, Mikasa didn't look terrifying. She looked tired, and sad, bracing herself, like Armin had all those years ago, for the punch coming her way.

Armin wasn't strong like his sisters. He couldn't stop the impact the way Mikasa had, or comfort her the way Eren had once comforted him. All he had to offer was knowledge and calculations, and his presence. Mikasa needed that more than ever.

"I'll miss her," she said, in her quiet, unimposing voice.

"Yeah," he said. An heavy weight was collapsing into his chest, despite his optimism. "I know."

XxXxXxXxXxX

When Armin woke on Friday morning, the heaviness hadn't gone away.

They day was nice, sunny, and warmer than the past few weeks. The city was buzzing with movement, people packing into the streets well before noon. Armin was slightly disappointed that Eren wouldn't get to ride a carriage to the Abbey, given that the wedding was happening within the Palace itself. He and Mikasa stood behind the balcony windows for a long time, watching the growing crowd, both of them wondering if there wasn't a way for Eren to ride out even for a few minutes, at least. 

They were both feeling restless, he could tell. Still, it was his duty, as both a friend and an honorary brother, to put on the best brave face he had. Looking at Marco, Jean, and Mikasa standing in front of him, Armin could tell they'd all arrived at the same conclusion. With a nod, he knocked on Eren's door, and, after a few seconds of shuffling, the bride herself appeared in the doorway.

Eren looked beautiful on her wedding day. Even amidst her anger and doubt, she smiled at everyone when they entered the room together. From what Armin had gathered, she had decided to dress herself alone, though Sasha had done her hair and makeup a few hours prior.

"Wow," Jean said. Armin silently agreed, only giving him a fleeting look when the monosyllabic appreciation rang in the air without any follow up. Jean had long since gotten over Eren, but in moments like this, Armin felt oddly sure that, if given the right chance, they'd be able to fall back together as if nothing had ever ended. King Grisha had chosen well when he had made Jean her personal guard, despite the Academy insisting he assign someone with more experience. Duty was a powerful motivator, but love was lethal. Only someone fully devoted to Eren would be able to protect her the way the King wanted her to be protected.

Even now, hints of tension lined Jean's stance, knowing Eren wasn't fully okay. When he smiled, though, he looked almost nostalgic.

Armin looked away. It wasn't his place to notice and catalogue small details like this, not when he knew Jean could be trusted. Moments like that weren't meant for outside eyes. Instead, he turned his eyes to the sight in front of him.

The dress itself was nothing fancy, having been ordered on such short notice, but its simplicity made Eren look radiant. It was a boat neck cut, stretching from shoulder to shoulder, scooping enough to reveal collar bone and hints of skin. Three-quarter sleeves, crisp white. Lighting her face. Her hair had been pulled into the elaborate Marian knot, the country's signature red-and-silver Warrior Tiara decorating her head.

Despite the rush of the whole affair, photos had to be taken later to appease the public. And King Grisha couldn't pull this off with no decorum whatsoever.

Marco shifted then, breaking the look that passed between Eren and Jean.

"You do look great," he smiled, then grinned when Eren winked at him.

The brief moment shattered when Mikasa next spoke. "Your mom would have been proud of you."

Everyone in the room froze, even Marco, who was relatively new to this dynamic. Eren's smile flickered at the compliment, before fizzing out entirely. Green eyes looked down at tan hands, littered with small scars from a childhood spent climbing trees and running wild through the forest.

Armin nudged Mikasa, but she ignored him and silently asked Sasha for the veil. He knew she was right --- Eren was everything Carla Jaeger would have been proud of. But Eren had never known how to approach the topic of her mother, not unless she was mentioned in passing, or mentioned symbolically. The silver earrings Eren wore had belonged to her mother, once.

Mikasa poked her cheek. "I mean it."

Eren only nodded, trying to smile but looking a little sad, as she sat down in front of the vanity.

The veil was thick, in line with the Marian custom of the bride's face being almost completely undistinguishable until the groom pulled it back. As soon as it fell over her, Jean's expression soured slightly, and Marco's smile faltered. Sasha's previously happy demeanor collapsed into a frown. Mikasa tugged at her hair, having left the scarf in her room. They weren't warriors, after all, Armin knew.

After a few minutes of broody silence, Eren stood up. Despite knowing no one could see her face, Armin was sure she was glowering.

"It's marriage, not death," she snapped.

Unexpectedly, it was Jean that straightened up. "She's got a point," he pitched, leaning against the wall. Marco shot him a wary look that was somehow half amused. "Besides, her tits look too good for us to be this depressed."

Tension shattered like glass. Mikasa sighed and rolled her eyes, and Sasha laughed.

"What a _pig_ ," Eren whined, though everyone knew she was smiling behind the veil. "This is why you're still single!"

"And here I was thinking that you were scaring off all my prospects."

"No, it's definitely because you're a pig," she deadpanned, groping around for Armin's arm, which he guided her hand to. "You've surpassed the point of horse. At least horses can be tamed to be friendly."

"Of course he's still a horse," Sasha spoke up. She shot Jean a look that was positively wicked. Said man took a step back in mild alarm, and Armin and Mikasa exchanged quick, knowing glances. "Anything is tameable on the right leash."

Eren's laugh was a quick burst of air. "I'm starting to think _you're_ the kinky one," she snickered. "You're just projecting onto the rest of us. You need to get laid."

"I agree," Sasha sighed, expression brightening. "And I have a whole base of hot, sweaty soldiers to pick from."

"I pity them," Mikasa muttered. "They'll have to put up with your antics on top of you passing gas at the dinner table."

"That was one time!" Sasha shrieked, cheeks flooding crimson in embarrassment. But it had done the trick: Eren was laughing.

The short walk down to the chapel space was a noisy one. Eren clung tightly to Armin's elbow, the other hand gliding along the railing as they made their descent. Sasha and Jean were bickering softly behind them, and Eren interjected now and then, pulling chuckles and huffs out of Mikasa and Marco, who kept pace ahead of them. All Eren and Ackerman had to do was exchange rings and say their vows. Both had already signed the marriage papers and the alliance agreement before the ceremony, separately, in the presence of the King, the Prime Minister, Dot Pixis, and the Archbishop, in accordance with Marian custom.

They met the King at the door, noise dying gradually when he nodded to them. Armin gave Eren's hand a brief squeeze before guiding her to her father, and after bowing, the party made their way into the room.

In the end, the wedding ceremony itself lasted less than twenty minutes. It was so anticlimactic that Armin began wondering if that was what the King had been aiming for this whole time. It would appease Eren, for one, who would have hated a three hour ceremony for a day she'd been dreading the past three years.

He sat in the front with Mikasa, one row behind King Grisha. By Marian tradition, Ackerman was forbidden from turning around when Eren began her descent down the aisle, so Armin couldn't detect anything from his stance other than the light tension in his back. King Erwin was equally unhelpful, despite facing the crowd in his position as best man. His face was an immaculate mask, only briefly looking at Eren before sharing an unreadable look with Ackerman in front of him. He'd smiled for a second, though, but Armin really couldn't tell if it was aimed at the King or more to himself. Hanji Zoe was useless, having been seated further back with Marco and Jean.

When Eren reached Ackerman, they both kneeled on the velvet cushions at the Archbishop's feet, heads bowed as the usual speech about the holiness of marriage was given, and then _finally,_ Armin and Mikasa shifted in their seats to get a better look at Ackerman's face as he began lifting her veil.

Armin was expecting something obvious, maybe an appreciative glimmer in his eye, given the way he'd been eyeing Eren at the party. Maybe some surprise, given that he had no idea that he'd been talking to the princess he was about to marry --- just _something,_ in short, for him to confirm that the hopes he'd been riding on weren't completely unfounded.

Ackerman pulled back the veil. The window in front of him allowed Armin a fully illuminated view of his right side, Eren being lit by the three o'clock sun from behind. Mikasa craned her neck, not even trying to be discrete.

Looking back on it, Armin wished they'd just stayed put. As Eren's face emerged from behind the fabric, Ackerman's hand froze in the act, his pale face breaking out into an expression of disbelief. And then, before anyone dared draw breath, he retracted his hand, expression darkening.

And he turned away.

One second passed, then two, then three. Eren, stunned, swallowed visibly and looked back to the Archbishop, tucking hair behind her ear as she did so. It was painfully obvious that the gesture was meant to push the veil discreetly back over her head, completing the gesture Ackerman had started. The room was deathly silent. 

Mikasa's clenched fist dug into the side of his leg. Armin decided to count himself lucky when she kept her voice down.

"I'll kill him."

The weight was there again, crushing, even as the vows were said by both parties in strong, unwavering voices and the plain wedding bands were slipped onto unshaking fingers. Eren looked straight ahead as she walked by them, for once holding all her emotion behind a solid, cool mask. 

Armin looked down at his feet, thinking the rich colors of the floor had no business looking as lovely as they did in the steady sunlight. 


	7. The People's Princess Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took foreeeeever. I had a hard time writing about Eren's carriage ride---you'll see. Thank you all for the comments, the hits, and the kudos! I hope everyone is staying safe during this time. You're awesome!

Sitting in the velveted waiting room, Eren asked herself exactly what she'd been expecting. A smile? A caress of the cheek? A soft reassurance? The thought of it now made her cringe. At heart, she guessed she really was just a stupid little girl. Ackerman's reaction had been completely logical, given the information they'd acquired.

Still, here she was, dressed in her second gown, Marian flowers woven beautifully into her hair, feeling slighted. Not even Armin and Mikasa were with her, having been forced to wait in different rooms until everyone made their grand exit. All she had was Marco, seated uncertainly at the window behind her. Eren was in too foul a mood to relieve him from his awkward worry. If it had at least been Jean, they could have complained together. But the King had been sharp: ex-boyfriends and slighted brides were typically not good combinations.

"Would you like some water?" Marco piped up. His voice was hesitant, but kind.

"No."

After a beat of silence, Eren released a guilty sigh. "But thank you." It was nice of him to try, anyway. "Do you know how long I have to sit here?"

"Armin sent me an update a few minutes ago. They're thinking of taking the carriage through the whole of the main town instead of halfway down the east side. Apparently the streets are packed with people and they're screaming for a glimpse of you."

Eren perked up. "We can do that?" She shot Marco a hopeful look over her shoulder.

It would be great to get her mind off of things, instead of enduring an agonizing carriage ride with her father. Besides, she'd be able to get one last view of the city before beginning her half-decade exile in Trost. Once she was there, visitations outside of holidays wouldn't be possible, lest the Marian rumor mill started turning. There was only one hitch Eren could see.

"What about King Erwin's security?"

"That's what's taking so long," Marco explained. "The three cars preparing to escort them to the airport are worried they'll be separated if they change routes."

Eren pondered this for a moment. It made sense why the security teams wouldn't want to change their plans, but... "They realize that even if something happens, none of the carriages are bulletproof, right? And no one knows that we're about to change our plan. Let them have part of the King's Guard if they're worried. Ask Armin."

Marco hummed contemplatively. "That's not a bad idea. We can also have one car with their personnel at the back and front of the procession. Jean and I can take one each."

Eren only nodded, watching as Marco typed away. She twisted on the sofa, resting her chin on the top. "Are you going to regret leaving all of this behind?"

Marco glanced up, clearly not having expected the question, because he stared at her for several seconds.

"I'm not leaving a lot behind, I guess," he said finally, looking pensieve. Then he smiled. "Honestly, all of you have become more like family than my actual family. Not to say --- I mean, I know you're my boss and, uh, my future sovereign but ---"

"Don't be stupid Marco, of course we're family," she cut him off, shooting him an exasperated smile. He blushed, but gave her a timid smile in return. "I guess I should have asked you this sooner," Eren added, mouth dipping down.

He waved her off. "You had other things on your mind."

"I guess," she allowed, but it was a bad excuse and she knew it. In the years that she'd been formally serving as a Royal, Eren had come to learn that family was everything in a world where people were always trying to get something from you. But to make a family work, everyone had to do their share of the dirty work: conflict resolution, listening, apologizing, spending time with each other. She had always been a little negligent with all of that, especially when she was younger. Now that her head was on tighter, Eren was disappointed that she'd let Marco fall through the cracks amidst all the noise. "Hopefully it won't always be like that."

"It's okay if it is, you know," Marco said kindly. Before Eren could protest, he gave her a more confident smile, one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. "It's hard being a princess. I could never do what you're doing...and it's okay if you're busy with stuff. We know you care."

"Jean too?"

Marco's eyes softened. "Jean, too."

Eren bobbed her head, relaxing. Marco was good at comforting people. Eren would gladly take a class, if he was willing to teach. They stayed in comfortable silence for a few minutes longer, Marco checking his phone from time to time.

Suddenly, he perked up. "They've okayed the plan! Mikasa's on her way with your dad. Armin decided to take a carriage with King Erwin, and Zoe's travelling with Ackerman. You're taking the open carriage, if that's okay."

Eren rose excitedly, grinning in response. She adjusted her hair and fixed the wedding band on her finger, pointedly ignoring the feel of it on her skin. It said a lot about her marriage that she'd almost forgotten about it since the ceremony. But the people didn't need to know that.

Marco rose from the window too, stretching his freckled arms. "Do you think it's recon?" Marco asked, clearly referring to Armin's decision to ride with the king.

Eren shrugged. "I never know when it comes to Armin. It could be something as simple as networking."

"Nothing's ever simple with Armin."

Eren had to give him that. Armin used to be a shy kid--smarter than Einstein, but shy all the same. The confidence was a relatively new addition, but Eren thought it was sense, given that Armin's growth spurts put him at a respectable five-feet-eight-inches.

"D'you think his charm will work on King Erwin?"

"That's beyond me. They're both charming bastards, but King Erwin is hypnotic. Armin might have a chance purely because he's sneaky, but who really knows?"

Marco was prevented from answering by the doors swinging open. Mikasa had found time to change from her simple dress into a black-and-white suit and black heels, a wire communicator peeking out from her ear. Another day, Eren would have asked if that was really necessary, but their conversation about Project Titan and the memory of the glock that was safely packed away in her suitcases prevented her from doing so. Instead, she let Mikasa give her a long once over and smiled.

"Let's talk about it in the air," she suggested. Judging by the grim look on Mikasa's face, Eren knew her sister was angry.

It was going to be a long plane ride.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Is that an earthquake?"

"I'm not answering that."

Not that he really had to, but..."It sounds like an earthquake."

Levi sighed. "Shitty glasses, does that sound like the screams of people in fear to you?"

"I'm only trying to make you feel better."

"How is this---"

"See, because if it's _not_ an earthquake, you have to acknowledge that the deafening roar we can hear is the people coming to see their princess off, meaning she's the most popular on this planet and if they find out how you just treated her---"

"Alright, alright!" Levi snapped, raising his voice only slightly in the confines of the carriage. "Fuck off. I was just surprised."

"You were _mean_. You should have seen the girl's face."

Levi decided not to answer. Erwin had already described it in excruciating detail for twenty minutes straight. Not even the trainees were subjected to those kinds of lectures.

"So are you going to apologize?"

The answer was yes, Levi knew. But until it was actually time to apologize, he figured he was allowed to vent. "She disguised herself to get information on me."

Across from him, Hanji squinted. "And you're not impressed?"

Again no answer, but Hanji could tell that the pensive expression on Levi's face was an affirmation.

"Well, I think she'll liven the place right up," she continued, sunnily ignoring the look she got in response. She smiled and adjusted her hair as the carriage started moving. "Assuming you don't rain on her parade."

"I don't rain on parades."

"You don't smile either."

"Fuck you."

Hanji perked up. "That's another thing," she said, in a tone that had Levi straightening in response to the alarm bells ringing in his head. "I got you a new box of condoms. They're already waiting back at the base."

Being the garbage person that she was, she'd waited until the carriages were out in the open at the gate to say it, where they were in perfect sight of the Palace Guard. Levi gritted his teeth, knowing he couldn't start yelling, but that didn't mean he didn't let his anger bleed into his face.

Hanji's smile faltered, her eyes widening. Not in fear, but in _hurt._

 _"_ I'm not trying to make fun of you!" she protested. "Look, I _know_ how you are about safe sex. And I also know that you won't go out and get them yourself because you're not expecting anything to happen, but we're all better off being safe rather than sorry, hm? If nothing happens after eight months, give them to Gunther or Erd."

" _You_ give them to Gunther or Erd," Levi bit, but with less venom than he'd intended. Hanji's expression was earnest, and worse, she was right. No, scratch that; what was worse was that Levi's old stash of condoms was probably expired. It had been...years, actually, since he'd had penetrative sex with someone, and whatever he had done in the years since had never been at the base, which was full of trainees and the gossiping tendencies of his own squad. Soldiers, he had come to learn, were worse than fishwives. And he doubted Princess Eren would be bringing any of her own...protective gear.

It was with a frown that he put an abrupt end to that particular thought. The pictures hadn't really done the Princess justice. She was much prettier in person, but Levi had been sidetracked by those ridiculously blue-and-green eyes when he'd pulled back the veil to really take in her features. That, and his own incredulity. What were the odds of two completely separate people that he'd met, two days apart, having the same eye colour? He should've followed his damn gut back at the party. She'd hit all the spots: annoying, naïve, ridiculously earnest, only for him to find out it had all been an act.

And on top of that, she'd had the gall to look all worried when he finally unveiled her. Worried and nervous—and hopeful, too. Maybe that was what had made him snap.

Hanji was suspiciously quiet in front of him, he realized suddenly, and came out of his thoughts. A second later, he realized that she was staring out of the window, her mouth slightly ajar.

Now that Levi had come out of his reverie, he noticed that the voices they'd hear from inside the palace carriage pathway had intensified. From their position in the middle of the procession, he could just see the top of Princess Eren's head at the front of the line, lifted into his view by her weirdly tall carriage. Two guardsmen were in front of her on horses, and the man driving the carriage was apparently her chauffeur, a heavy, dusty-blond man named Hannes, but they were driven out of his mind when he glanced out the side window and saw the hordes of people pushing themselves up against the gates.

The British Prince had gotten married a few years ago, Levi remembered. It was televised in the middle of huge squares across the country, but this was nothing like that.

In the front row were the children, holding flowers and Marian flags, half of which had been tossed between the gaps of the gate and onto the Palace grounds. While the children were obviously unhappy with the noise around them, several were craning their necks and trying to catch a glimpse of the Princess, tugging on their parents' pants and skirts. The adults, though, they were in a frenzy. Their heads carried tinsel-and-cardboard crowns that were obviously trying to mimic Maria the Warrior Queen, and in their hands they held red handkerchiefs that they waved furiously at the Royal Carriage, as though they were offering favours.

"The fuck?" he found himself asking.

"Red is the colour of good-will," Hanji murmured. Levi didn't bother asking why she knew that. "It has something to do with their war history, I think. It's a sign of strength. Or a blood promise, I can't really remember."

His eyebrow raised. A sign of strength or a promise made in blood? These people were a little messed up.

"Look!" Hanji said. "They're opening the gate!"

"They better have secured the roads," he muttered. "We'll never make it on time if they start crowding."

Hanji nudged his shin, none too gently. "You're raining on the parade."

Refusing to rise to the bait, he kept his eyes fixed on the crowd of people ahead of them. As the Princess' carriage moved forward, the clamour around them began to gradually intensify. A woman grabbed her husband by the shirt collar and began pointing fervently, blocking his windpipe. The sorry bastard choked on the muffin he was munching on, but he still swivelled his whole torso to follow his wife's finger, pounding on his chest, bits of muffin flying out of his mouth. The sight made Levi grimace. Disgusting.

As their own carriage was pulling out onto the street, Levi found the reaction was the same no matter where he looked. People pushed hard against the Velvet cords on the sides of the road, though someone had had enough sense to position a police blockade to enforce it. People were climbing atop other people's shoulders. On the far East side, there was a sea of Marian flags waving passionately in the air, the ancient Queen's face shining bright in the sun. Red roses littered the cobblestone street, along with handkerchiefs, daisies, lilacs, and a clusterfuck of other flowers Levi couldn't recognize. A chant had taken up among the crowd, and it got louder and louder as it swept through them.

"Maria!" They were yelling. "Maria! Maria!"

It became a roar as they reached the City Square. The fountain at the centre of the promenade was turned off, twenty or so people climbing into it and using the elevation as a platform for their posters and memorabilia. A nauseatingly pink sign read "EREN & LEVI: THE LOVE OF THE CENTURY", with a horrible, blown-up image of his expressionless face plastered across it.

"Levi—" Hanji breathed. Her voice was trembling with twisted glee.

He levelled her with a glare so fierce his face hurt. The fucker was practically salivating at the sign, hand positioned over the pocket that Levi _knew_ held her phone.

"Don't. You. Dare," he growled.

A Cheshire grin was what she gave him, her eyes glinting behind her glasses. If pictures of that sign made it into the base, he thought, there would be war.

The fervour intensified as the carriages rushed along, faster than Levi thought they would be travelling. Women were screaming as they went, aged all the way from sixteen to people in their sixties, tears gushing out of their eyes. Above them, a helicopter circled, the bright blue logo of the local news station registering in his mind. Someone released a jet of pink foam spray, jumping up and down like their life depended on it. Everywhere they looked it was overwhelming, these people and their hope, their love---whatever it was they were trying to make clear to the girl at the front of the procession. He glimpsed her as the formation turned the corner, just for a moment before the buildings hid her once more. Princess Eren was on her feet, her hair pulled back, some shiny crown or the other strapped securely on her head. She raised her hand and the screaming soared, high enough that Levi winced even in the confines of the carriage, but even with the distance between them, he could see that her smile was so wide that her face was on the verge of tearing.

What did it mean to these people, Monarchy? In Trost, Erwin represented stability, freedom from the old puppet king that had once held everything with an iron fist and easy lies. They respected him and they liked him. But had they once, ever, taken to the streets like this? _Would_ they? He remembered what he’d seen in that image of her, on the infuriating cover of the equally infuriating newspaper.

Hanji said, “I told you this marriage was a good idea.”

Not entirely knowing why, Levi leaned back in his seat and turned his attention to the left, where there were more buildings than crowd. It would be the same all the way to the airport, anyway; the screaming, the signs, the flower-littered streets. If she kept up whatever charisma she had here in her country, Trost would flock to her like bees on a flower. There would likely be nothing for him to do, or worry about, or busy himself with. The fist at his side loosened.

Yes, Levi could get off easy. Princess Eren would busy herself with projects and meetings, and Levi would play housewife at the base and train his cadets and run his Squad into the ground, like he always did. And whatever the hope in her eyes had been at the altar, she would lose that when she found out just how much was available to her. A woman who inspired this kind of joy didn’t need a husband for love or for comfort.

Mirrorring Hanji’s earlier jab, Levi kicked her in the shin. She dragged her eyes away from the crowd with a splutter and rubbed gingerly at the spot.

Levi felt a twinge of guilt. He was still working on his ‘friendly violence’ as Hanji called it. He had a feeling deep down in his gut that she was experimenting with him somehow, but hadn’t had enough energy to investigate the suspicion further.

He cleared his throat in lieu of an apology. “King Reiss. Spill.”

Clearly more interested in the spectacle outside, she said, “Erwin spoke to Pixis at the party. According to His Majesty, the old man hasn’t changed one bit.”

So that was why Erwin had disappeared so suddenly. “Still stupidly one-sided, then. He didn’t give anything away?”

“Not much that Erwin can piece together. Pixis has a strong attachment to the Princess and her sister, which isn’t surprising given his position in the defence system and Lady Mikasa’s training. As for political matters…” she shrugged. “Of course he didn’t give much away. He’s not part of Trost anymore and he won’t betray the King unless the King is working against the people. I have no idea what Erwin was expecting. King Grisha didn’t say much, either; just that Reiss had been given an invitation and had used the ‘short notice’ excuse. He sent his well-wishes, however. And a wedding gift--a jade necklace, I think.”

“At least he was invited,” Levi muttered. The sliver of unease that had been wiggling its way through him slowly diminished, but didn’t vanish entirely. “Sina’s not even that far from here.”

Hanji sent him a sidelong glance before turning back to the window. “If you’re thinking in terms of the effort it’d take to show up for alliance’s sake, then no, it’s not. But for a King with a busy schedule, who might be feeling a little slighted by the rapid engagement? Sure it is.”

Levi felt his eyebrow hike. “Reiss doesn’t have a suitable candidate for Princess Eren to marry---not unless he’s open-minded enough to marry his daughter off to another woman.”

“You’re not a prince, Levi, or a king,” Hanji reminded him. “Reiss could have proposed his own second-in-command, even his defence minister.”

Levi made a sound of disgust. “He’s forty.”

Hanji was right, however. Erwin had seen this coming in the first days of their negotiation, and they had both always wondered, secretly, why King Grisha looked to them for a political marriage. Uniting two rival kingdoms had always seemed more advantageous than allying a third power against Sina. The King’s reasons had all been reasonable: the princess was too young to marry someone from Sina; the princess was stubborn; Maria had far more to gain by developing a nation in their fashion, rather than being submissive to Sina’s gargantuan presence. But this new turn of events brought the old question back: was the animosity between the two kingdoms too great for a reconciliation?

His marriage was built on military promises, after all.

“We have been here before,” he sighed, pushing the thought away. Half-heartedly he loosened the bowtie at his neck, and Hanji offered him a small smile. Not the usually crazed one, or the scheming one, or the absent one, but the rare half-smile she pulled on the equally rare occasions that she was able to really see what was in front of her. “Have you been sleeping?” he asked.

“Better these days than at the base,” she assured him. “Everything’s been thought out.”

Levi felt himself smirk. “And who was the one yapping about not treating this as a mission?’

“I wasn’t!” Hanji protested, her mouth pulling together in a pout. “I’m only saying---Erwin already did everything.”

Levi nodded indulgently. “And who’s following orders like a good soldier?”

“Fuck you,” she sniped. “As if you haven’t had rain clouds hanging over your head all week.”

“I’m always---”

“Exactly. Didn’t I tell you to leave your Captain persona behind?”

He flipped her off, and she grinned.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Eren was standing in front of Hannes and trying not to cry.

Everyone had loaded themselves into the aircrafts already, with only Mikasa standing some ways behind her with her father, trying to give Eren some semblance of privacy. But when Eren opened her mouth, she found that nothing was coming out. 

He’d been in her life for over fifteen years, and now she was telling him goodbye. A five-year goodbye, but a goodbye nonetheless.

His blue eyes crinkled as he watched her struggling. “Come on then, ‘ts bad luck to cry on your wedding day.”

“Who said I’m crying?” she asked indignantly. As she said it, her eyes started burning.

“Now, behave yourself, you hear me?” he said. Eren sniffed in mock disdain, but he only clucked his tongue at her. “I’ve spent half my life keeping you off the streets and the other half driving your nannies to the principal’s office to hear about your misadventures. This is not the playground, young lady. Fight when you have to, and lie low otherwise.”

This conversation sent her right back to her first day of boarding school. “I know I’m not supposed to fight anyone,” Eren grumbled. “Papa already gave me the lecture.”

Hannes took a step closer, something he could never have done had they been surrounded by the public. Eren could feel Hanji Zoe’s curious stare from the jet behind her, but she kept staring at Hannes’ face. Oh, she was going to miss him---he took her everywhere; he always had, without so much as a complaint or a hint of anger. And he put up with her clubbing until three in the morning and her rock concerts and multiple trips to the ice cream store and spur-of-the-moment desires to attend yoga classes and basketball classes and art classes and so many other things that she had demanded over the years, like his walking with her in the park and their yearly picnic trips. Hannes was family.

He clasped one of her hands between his large ones. They were tan, calloused, and unadorned by a wedding band. “You have always been stubborn and incomprehensibly determined. If anyone is going to fight Levi Ackerman and live, it’s you. _However_ ,” he added, when her jaw dropped, “You and I both know that Mikasa and Armin have pulled you out of most scrapes. So know your limits, but do not underestimate your own strength, you hear?”

Eren nodded dumbly, a rush of warmth slamming into her chest. Hannes’ face blurred into a tan blob as tears finally filled her eyes and then rushed down her face. “I’ll fire you if you don’t answer my text messages.”

Before she could think twice about it, she hugged him tightly and let go, before he could bring his arms around her. He patted her head affectionately, unable to ruffle it because of the knot and her crown, and then gently guided her to her father as she wiped her face.

Grisha Jaeger and his daughter had been saying their goodbyes for years now, so it was not hard to look her father and pull herself together. He opened his arms and she stood as he placed two kisses on her cheeks.

“I am proud of you,” he said. She felt it would be too cold to simply nod, so she tried for a small smile instead.

“Be, uh, be safe, I suppose. And please stay healthy.”

Her father smiled. Time had long ago turned his brown hair gray at the roots, and lines invaded the corners of his eyes and mouth. He was in his fifties but still strong, though Eren suspected his love for steak and fatty meats would take its toll on him eventually.

“You will be safe,” he said simply. “And so will I. And if you are healthy, I see no reason why I shouldn’t be.”

“Right.” She swallowed. The words were there in her throat, the _I love you_ that she was supposed to say. "Papa---"

"You'll come home for your sister's birthday, and mine. I'll arrange it."

"O-okay. Yes." 

He nodded at her, then smiled. "I will see you soon, _schatzi_. The plane needs to leave."

Eren gave him her own jerky nod in reply, and then began walking towards the plane. It had been a clear dismissal and she was thankful for it. Words between them were never easy, and they both knew that the other did love them, truly. She looked out the window at his face as the plane drove away, waiting for an emotion she could name. Anger had drained away; so had resignation. The deal was done; Eren was going. Her husband might hate her, but so what, right? She was a princess and she had three of her friends with her. And there was a little resolve in her stomach, too.

But mostly there was a settling blankness that tingled her fingers. _It won't be so bad_ , she told herself.

By the time the plane began moving, she had already settled down enough to listen to Mikasa's complaints. 


End file.
